1/23, no. 69

first: a toast to the number of today's post. shoutout to any and all individuals still amused by the timeless "sounds like my first time" (aka "that's what she said") jokes. this one's for you, michael scott!


second: after 192 pages of pure angst in the form of sketches and doodles, 19 verses on death, 11 odes to prozac, and one too many plays of emily haines's 'doctor blind', it is gone. and i'm alright.


the facts were these: yesterday i drove to LA to pick up my friend krista (USC architecture student, lives in a cool apartment with two cool roommates, has the most eclectic/fly/attractive group of friends who do things like meet jamie foxx on party buses and regularly hit up LA's trendiest restaurants and bars). we drove around LA (specifically little tokyo) and ate at the pie hole (try the mac n cheese and mexican hot chocolate if you're in the area!), which has a great interior layout, some pretty nasty-tasting cucumber water, really cool vibes, and, as i've just pleasantly discovered for myself, a very clean, neat, and otherwise aesthetically pleasing web page. it's right across from the famous wurstküche (for any late-bloomer teenagers who still care for zooey deschanel, this area that i'm so pathetically trying to describe is around the block where the apartment exterior in 'new girl' is filmed).


we met up with krista's fellow architecture friend, arjun, who is apparently literally too cool for words as i was too intimidated by all the cool in the room to speak as we ate our pies.


and then we went to a sci arc (an architecture school) store open to the public to get the cool students their supplies for studio. and then we saw what might have been a filming of some sort, but looked more like a casual gang bang on the corner of the street.


spending time with krista makes me feel just a teensy bit more hip. but ignore the fact that i am certainly coming off here as a middle aged father of two teenage girls, and let me tell you something: i've been perusing through the city of angels on a weekly basis since i was born, and every time i drive around, there's almost always something new and fascinating i stumble upon (i could digress on how stumbleupon has lately been letting me down, but i will refrain). when i was kid the asian restaurants were all the rage, mainly because my parents had the steering wheel, the brains, the decisions; ergo, my discoveries, albeit awesome, were small (graffiti around lincoln heights, fights around skid row, people who made themselves look like art by walking around in all kinds of crazy patterns). (sidenote: apologies to any commaphobics out there, i can't believe i just slaughtered the use of commas in that last sentence). but now that i'm discovering more and more very cool and very real places (namely eateries), i get to feel like a kid again. and it's a pretty damn good feeling (not to be the laughing cow but right now would be a great time to play the namesake song by the violent femmes).


and that's the story of my unwavering ability to ramble about ramblings and annotate my own tortuous run-on sentences.