Kerri "saxicolous" T.'s Profile

If you like your possessions, heed my advice and steer clear of Guardian Self Storage. If, however, you fancy "inside job" thievery, apathetic management, hateful attitudes, and stressful situations, then this is your place, by golly.  Welcome.

After being a customer here for years and paying my ever-increasing bills on time every month without complaining, I was completely devastated to discover last weekend that someone has been stealing items from my storage unit for the past 6 months or longer. A friend was Joshua-Tree-bound and wanted to collaborate on some music with me, so GT and I went to our unit together for the first time in ages.  We'd been meaning to do this for a while now, because we were both having trouble tracking down some pretty important and sentimental items, so together we went to retrieve some instruments and equipment.  But....where were they?

A few weeks prior, I'd moved my husband' bass guitar from the front of the unit to the back, where I thought it would be less prone to topple over.  Now, it was gone.  And, we discovered, so were my vintage accordions and PA system and GT's Fender amp. Which made sense, suddenly, given that all of my camping equipment, a kayak, certain pictures and collectibles, and other items had mysteriously disappeared over the last 6 to 8 months.   Slowly.  Over time.  Somebody.   Has.  Robbed.  Us.  Blind.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered all the screws in the side and back wall were missing.  I hadn't noticed before, because we had so many things piled against the walls that I couldn't actually see the walls themselves.  But now that we and some strangers had thinned the contents, I could clearly see the points of entry.  I pushed my hand against the wall and discovered that I could actually get inside the adjacent unit.  The back wall of both our units had clearly been pulled up, or pushed aside, to allow people to remove large items.  That was when GT discovered that a crate full of artwork, family pictures, and irreplaceable sentimental items was gone.  That crate weighed a hundred pounds.  This was clearly an inside job.

I called the after-hours number to report the incident and get directions on how to proceed, but was told I'd have to wait until Monday to fill out paperwork and file a police report because Rita, the manager, wouldn't be in the office until Monday and she wanted to "handle this herself."   Little did I know that Rita (the manager) LIVES ONSITE and could have easily met with me to resolve the issue - she just chose not to do so.

Out of concern for my belongings, I returned to the facility on Sunday to remove everything of value that I could fit in my car.  On Monday, I called the facility three times to try to coordinate an in-person meeting with Rita, but she had "stepped out of the office" each time I called and she never called me back.  I waited until Tuesday afternoon and then went to the storage facility.  Rita was sitting in the office when I arrived.  "Hi, I'm Kerri Tuttle."  *blank stare*  "The one whose unit was broken into?"   *blank stare*  "I called you 3 times?"  

"What do you want me to do?"  Rita snapped.   "You rent at your own risk.  There isn't anything I can do to help you."  

Yes, folks, this is the same Rita whose YELP testimonial reads as follows:  "I'm very passionate about what I do I feel it is a great privilage to be able to help people through stressfull situations in life just by being available. I do live on site so I'm most generaly always available when needed. I look forwarding to serving you in the future."

My heart sank.  I had expected assistance of some kind, perhaps some kindness, a shred of compassion. I had not anticipated the hostility or belligerence.  I asked Rita to come look at the walls where the thief had entered my unit.  She reluctantly followed me and rather impatiently looked where I pointed, but quickly she distanced herself from the incident.  "I hope you have insurance," she said.  "You need to file a police report and call your insurance."

Well duh.  This was what I waited three days to hear?  

"What about my things - how will you ensure they are safe in the meantime?" I asked.

"I can't guarantee your things won't get stolen again," Rita said.  "You rent at your own risk."

Extenuating circumstances prevented us from moving to a completely new facility at this time, so we asked to change units.  We were given a few hours to move all of our belongings from the "violated" unit  into a new unit, even though we'd technically paid for our unit through the 10th and paid rent for the new unit on top of that.  When I asked for the AAA discount offered on promotional materials, I was denied it. Because I'd received a promotion when I first signed the lease agreement, I am "ineligible for any other promotions."  

I think Rita said it best. "Rent here at your own risk."    Show owner comment »

Tamma's Magic Mercantile (formerly the Old Town Mercantile Company) sure has changed since I outed them on yelp as being fabulous.  

First of all, the Stickley Chaise Lounge has been replaced with a million awesome antiques, moroccan lamps and chandeliers, retro glassware, sexy candalabras, and several new ladies vintage clothing boutiques with an assortment of simply gawgeous vintage evening wear for less than $50.  

But the LARGEST COLEMAN MUSEUM IN THE WORLD IS GONE.  

Apparently some Amish guy bought the whole flipping thing and shipped it to...um...Amishland.  Man, that blows (hopefully he'll do more with it than hide it's awesomeness in the back corner of an antique mall in Podunk, PA).

The interior reorganization that has occurred since emptying the place of all the Coleman History is top-notch (though the new antiques and vintage ephemera aren't all reasonable priced), but I kept feeling as if something was, oh, I don't know, missing.

Man, that Stickley Chaise Lounge really tied the room together.

WOW.  Are there still insular bastions of stupidity in the world where xenophobes like Brandy S. reign supreme?

I'm famous for my procrastination in planning travel, especially business travel, for which my philosophy is:  "if I keep ignoring it, maybe it will go away."  Predictably, this leads to unfortunate conundrums of the "lesser of the evils" variety.  Last Sunday evening, realizing that I needed to be in Los Angeles all week and hadn't bothered to make a hotel reservation, I opened my Macbook and typed in "downtown LA hotel."  No matter where I looked, whether Expedia, Travelocity, individual hotel websites, http://hotels.com, or beyond, the results were the same:   only four hotels in the vicinity of downtown LA had mid-week vacancies.  Apparently, between the conventioneers and the tourists, downtown LA was booked solid all week long.  

Of the four available hotels, one was a hostel at rates of $50 a night and the second was a recently renovated historic hotel with shared bathrooms on each floor, both of which had received terrible reviews on tripadvisor and http://yelp.com.  The third was the King's Suite Penthouse - the entire top floor of a posh hotel - at a cool rate of $1,500 per night.  Last but not least was the Ramada Limited on Westlake.  "How bad can it be," I thought, and booked a room for four nights.

When I arrived to the hotel on Tuesday, it was a total fucking mess.  Dropcloths covering every square inch of the entryway and sidewalk, I had to squeeze my car between two ladders in order to park in the lot for check-in, but I managed.  Once inside the doors, it was quiet and serene.  Check-in was smooth and efficient.  My fourth-floor room was gigantic.  I'd received a special rate for a handicapped-equipped room, which is extra-large with a huge bathroom.  Sadly, it was right next to the elevator, so it was pretty noisy until midnight, but I was working late and didn't mind that much.  

The lowdown:

Plus one star for the towels, which were large and soft and plush; for the comfortable bed and pillows; and for the striped cotton sheets that were so soft and delicate I considered buying a set to take home.
Plus one star for the giant room and bathroom and for the sunset views over MacArthur Park.
Plus one star for the free parking and free (albeit slow) WIFI.
Plus one star for the well-appointed continental breakfast, which featured waffles, hard-boiled eggs, giant delicious muffins, four kinds of cereal, yogurt, bagels, breads, and juice/coffee/tea.  
Plus one star for the $120-per-night rate (plus taxes, making it about $150-per-night overall).

Minus one star for the noise and chaos (because noise is so inherent in this neighborhood, the original designers should have installed thicker noise-attenuating walls, and since they obviously did not, certainly a refurbishment of some kind is in order).  Overall I'd give the place 4 stars, but I'm subtracting one star for the mom factor (I wouldn't put my mother up here).  

I'm surprised by the number of people who are surprised, or even shocked, to discover that value prices have hidden costs, like noise, or cleanliness, or amenities.  That's why they're cheap, people!  The Ramada Limited offers an amazing array of amenities for the price, especially considering the convenient access to downtown LA and proximity to the Metro Red Line, which is a godsend if you're traveling with luggage and/or on a budget.  

If you're a sheltered midwesterner you should avoid this hotel at all costs, cos there's MEXICANS out there!  Scary, scary HISPANIC FAMILIES with their scary, scary FOOD CARTS serving up scary, scary delicious CHURROS and JUGOS and TORTAS.  And let's not forget those nasty, nasty street vendors and petitioners and homeless people!  

If you're a halfway normal person who has ever lived in a city before, you may appreciate the hustle and bustle.  Or, you may not.   As my Very Practical Husband said, "I can handle the noise for a day or so.  When it's a novelty, it's fine, even fun.  But I've lived in that kind of neighborhood before, and it [the noise] gets to me after a while."  

If it means anything at all, I'd stay here again and I never once felt unsafe.  I would even consider renting a very cheap flat in this neighborhood because being within one Metro Red Line stop of my downtown LA job is priceless.  In 2005, MacArthur Park was celebrated for having the highest reduction of crime statistics per resident in the United States (but be smart, and don't forget that the crime rates are higher here than in other adjacent neighborhoods, at least according to http://projects.l...  ).

"Hi!  Are you thirsty?  Hungry?" the attractive brunette behind the counter asks me as I sidestep two browsing fellows and approach Barista Central.  

Hmm.  Was I just "beamed up" and spit out back in the heart of Appalachia?  Or do I look particularly wretched today, in an underfed or homeless way?   Do the bags under my eyes make me look thirsty?  Does this cup of espresso make my butt look big?

Nope.  The girls at Ricochet just want to make sure you're sated.  And this homespun, friendly greeting demonstrates what sets Ricochet apart from any chain or non-chain place that slings coffee or any assembly-line breakfast or lunch joint within a 300 mile radius:  sincerity.

Did you ever watch the film "Like Water for Chocolate"?  The film basically takes the stance that love, or sorrow, or hatred, can be baked into the food that one serves to another.  So, if you cry into the soup, it's going to turn out impalatably salty.  Or if, on the other hand, you have pure love in your heart while you bake (like Chef Rosa), your clientele is going to come away with a song in their heart, stepping more lightly on the earth.  

So...are you thirsty? Might I recommend the organic espresso, shots of which rival those served in much more expensive cafes in Europe.  

Are you hungry?  Good god, then, settle into a bar stool and be fed!  

I've officially developed a school-girl crush on this place and the gorgeous ladies who run Ricochet.

This is a hidden gem of a pit stop along Highway 62.  While it may not look like much from the outside, inside is a fresh deli that serves up blistering hot slices of New York Style pizza.  For $1.99 you get a slice (my favorite is the sausage; the husband likes the Hawaiian) plus a fountain drink of your choice.  An entire pie costs merely $4.99, but if you want a whole pie you should call ahead or be prepared to wait about 15 minutes.

This place does, however, need a "Fresh, Hot Pizza Slices NOW" sign.  If you show up at certain times of the day, the pizza slices are like deadwood.  I've not been brave enough to determine if they can be resuscitated in my oven.  

Pauline's fresh home-made salsas, also delicious, are worth every penny.

Synopsis:  A well-appointed, exquisitely situated B&B that could exist anywhere in the world and take your breath away, but its gorgeous construction and impeccably designed interiors, coupled with its sweeping views of the high desert sunsets and location a mere 1 mile from the main entrance to Joshua Tree National Park make this The Ultimate Getaway Destination of the greater Mojave.  Bravo!

Long version:  Scott and Steve hosted my wedding reception at their gorgeous oasis, and our friends and family are still talking about the event.  More specifically, we've since taken dozens of phone calls from friends/family exclaiming "we can't stop telling all our friends about your incredible move star wedding!"  The best thing about it:  my husband and I had very little to do with how perfectly fantastic it was, or how effortless it all appeared.  

First, the establishment itself.  My husband and I rented both B&B rooms for three days (and then stayed an extra night afterwards) during the event.  My best friend was gifted one room, and husband and I slept in the other.  Thus, we had the perfect incongruity:  stressed out wedding-crazed couple in one room, seeks peace and quiet and stress relieving conditions; privacy a must.  And in the other room, we have: happy-go-lucky best friend visiting from Oahu with nothing to do but eat, drink, and be merry seeks fun and adventure in the mojave; all are welcome!  

What's great about straw bale construction:  the thick walls yield insulation, privacy, and total quiet.  When we were outside in our private porch area we could hear low murmurs from the adjacent porch, but inside it was utterly silent, and once in bed we slept like the dead.  

The reception itself was astoundingly lovely.  Scott and Steve had located a gorgeous silk bolt of fabric in LA's fabric district and they used it to cover one long farmhand-style table, with a couples bench at either end (so we could go from one end of the table to the other to speak with our guests).   They hung old lanterns from weathered wooden posts and strung lights all around.  The centerpiece was a bouquet of fresh mini peppers.  When I arrived to the reception I was speechless.  My family (from the south) is still raving about the dinner.  They think Scott and Steve should write a cookbook.  I unfortunately, did not eat so I will have to check with The Other Half to be reminded of the menu.  But I can say that the delicious sangria with white peaches was a crowd pleaser, as was the home-made lemon cake.  Everyone went back for cake seconds (or thirds, in the case of my dad)!

I can't imagine a more beautiful setting for a party, gathering, or reception.  I also can't imagine finding more attentive, selective, or talented proprietors.  Scott and Steve created a space, and a night, that I will never forget.