I'm back in the office after flying my first (and last) red-eye flight from LA to Chicago. I'm too tired to even start talking about the woman next to me who had no problem sleeping and blobbing into my personal space.... so instead, I'll recap the rest of California!
DON'T TOUCH THE BIG ASS
So you remember this picture from my last post. There's a place in LA's "Fashion District" called Santee Alley. I put "Fashion District" in quotes because the words Fashion and this Santee Alley are a contradiction in terms. Every knock off for the out-of-proportion big assed woman (you know, their body is one size and their ass looks like it's been on steroids) or pimp in training can be found in this 2 to 3 block alley all for miraculously either $5 or $35. I was with Kevin Farbeau and his mom and let's just say a Mark Jacobs bag and a Coach purse were both found for $35 each. And if they were actually MADE by Mark Jacobs and/or Coach then I'm actually a 4'10" munchkin with a lollipop bigger than my head getting ready to sing my heart out about my beloved guild. Anyway, I thought it was too funny that they actually had mannequins with larger butts to properly show off the hoochie mama pants.
GOTTA GETTA GETTY!
If you remember my last California trip I had pictures from the Getty Center. Well it seems that J. Paul had a basket full-o-dreams and an ass load-o-money to reach them with. Not only is LA home to the Getty Center in all its modern architecture glory, it is also the home of the Getty Villa. It seems that old J. Paul was sittin' around scratchin his ass and thought "You know, that uber ancient Roman city of Herculaneum had that cool Villa of the Papyri... too bad Vesuvius obliterated that Villa. I think I'll make another one in Malibu California!" Good thing he did because I had a great time with Kevin and his mom making fun of the statuary (and posing with Mom for some nice scenery shots.
The three of us sitting by the fountain
This statue was laid back in the reflection pool with his oddly ET-like long finger pointing nowhere in particular. I figured he was either saying "uhh, wait, can you also get me a Diet Pepsi" or he was saying "Pull my finger!"
I couldn't tell which was weirder... that these black busts had painted white eyes, or this guy was sculpted to look so pissed off!
I sat down to talk with Hermes about the Villa and he had some nice things to say. He's so complimentary, he knows how to smooth talk that's for sure!
RETURNING TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME
I used to live in Southern California for a short time. I lived in Costa Mesa which is about 40 minutes south of LA in Orange County (I think they called it "Living behind the Orange Curtain")
Since Sunday was such a gorgeous day we decided to go south and tour the coast and pass back through my old, but brief, stomping grounds. We started in Laguna Beach after a beautiful ride through the valley and peak of Laguna Canyon.
Kevin and I on the top of the canyon. You can see Laguna Beach, the Pacific (obviously) and if you look close you can see Catalina Island in the background.
You can see how high up we are with the houses below... and some of those fools biked/ran up from the beach to where we were.
Other random, fun, goofy-ass Laguna Pics:
Laguna hills are alive... with the sound of myooosiiiic!
The guy was bent over drinking and I thought I could pinch his butt... he moved...
WATCH OUT TIME INN!
There is a GREAT burger joint I went to just before leaving Sunday night called the Apple Pan. As I write this, I can't for the life of me figure out why it is called Apple Pan because they serve burgers and fries. Before I had a chance to really look over the menu Kevin said "Hickory Burger with fries". I took it as a recommendation that bordered on mandate. Being from the south putting "Hickory" pretty much makes everything good so I took him at his word.. and he was right!
This place is about as big as my apartment. It has a u shaped counter (no tables) that seats about 10 people on each side. If there's not a seat, people stand against the wall like vultures just waiting for someone to leave. It's a surprising honor code though that no matter where you're standing, everyone sits in their turn. If not, the grissly, yet very likeable man behind the counter who's worked there for at least the last 22 years, will let you know it's not your turn.
Going through Costa Mesa was interesting though. Seeing my old office building and thinking of that horrid, unethical company I worked for (Dylan, you asshat, I hope you're serving 5-7 in some lame-ass California prison) and my old apartment brought back some fun memories of my first move outside of South Carolina. I've always thought I would be comfortable moving back to California... might have to give that another thought... hmmm... Can a 6'7" guy surf?