This morning I was at home doing some chores when an earthquake rattled Los Angeles County. Funny thing, I ran out of coffee yesterday but I certainly didn't need this jolt offered as a substitute. While my apartment was bouncing all over the place I froze for a second with flashes of the night I survived the big one - Northridge '94. Turns out the epicenter was in Chino Hills, about 30 miles east of downtown LA and rated a 5.8 magnitude. It took me a few minutes to calm down and realize that it wasn't the end of the world - just yet. Within seconds I got a flurry of emails and text messages asking if everything is ok. I assured everyone that it was nothing major in West Hollywood. My friend Joe in San Diego predicted that the extreme right-wing nuts would use the quake as god-fearing propoganda for Prop. 8 against California's recent acceptance of gay marriage. Possibly, but all I know for sure is that I came pretty close to using my puppy's 'wee wee pad.'