LA

Nick: I feel... I feel as though en evil presence has been lifted from the earth. I feel as though the light has finally conquered darkness, and justice and truth are once again commanders of fate. That's correct: it's finally stopped raining. While some might point out that the rain's departure coincides perfectly with Tyler's and thus all the moisture is his fault, I'm inclined to believe it was my weather machine threat that finally got the clouds to behave themselves. Either way, it was a bright, beautiful day in the city of angels. Brian and I set out early to make the most of it, and after reading what I expect will be a rather lengthy blog post, I'm sure you'll feel as though we did. Our first stop was the infamous Venice beach.

Brian: Parking was lucky; we found a broken meter which I believe gives us free parking for the maximum allowable time of the meter. We knew we were on the fabled Venice beach when we saw a girl hula-hooping on top of a sand dune with a sign that said "Hoopin' for Haiti". You have to respect her entrepreneurial spirit, and we think it was wise for her to choose a business model with such low overhead. So yeah, we walked down the boardwalk and checked out the skateboarders, tattoo parlors, and grow shops. Pardon? Yes, it is possible to purchase Marijuana at a local retailer, provided you have a prescription from a doctor. Grrr, I hate big Pot trying to run the local Ma and Pa dealers out of business...

Nick: Damn the man. The beach was great, and I'm sure it would be even greater in the summer when every biddy in the LA area was out getting their tan on. Gotta love the coast. Eventually we made our way back to the car and headed to the highly acclaimed hot dog stand, (weird right?) Pink's. Eating one of their chili-covered dogs was an undertaking that, though difficult, yielded tremendous pleasure and satisfaction. In other words, they were sloppy yet tasty. Sorry digestive system, if I gave you healthy food every week it would just make you spoiled and lazy. You need to earn your keep. Next stop: Hollywood walk of fame.



Brian: For anybody that hasn't been to Hollywood, it isn't as weird and fake and beautiful and glamorous as you might expect it to be. Like, you know how super touristy places are typically really clean in that fake sort of way? Hollywood is just dirty and gross. The only good thing was that we found another broken parking meter so we could walk around for free again.

Nick: And they said parking would be expensive...

Brian: Also, a dude told Nick he looked like a skinny Zach Galafanakis (the guy from the Hangover).

Nick: That was kind of cool actually. I wish I could have played it off and drawn a crowd. Is that vain?

Brian: We only took one picture with one of the Hollywood stars, and we didn't see any famous people. Wow, lame.

Nick: Well, we did see Snoop Doggy Dog but he was in wax form so I'm not entirely sure he was the real one. Thirsty for better celeb sightings and hungry for more disgusting food, we headed over to an area known as "the grove" where we had been promised Brazilian food priced by the pound and the possibility of spotting prominent public peoples. The barbecued Brazilian beat even the best I'd ever had before, but Brian suggested we bounce. As we could find no famous biddies, his bidding was done. Where did we go? To find the set of "The Office." Following a shaky set of clues from various sources across the Intermet, we finally found a building that looked eerily familiar...

Brian: Dunder Mifflin HQ, no shit.




Nick: Well, the Scranton branch office anyway.

Brian: Complete with Dwight's Trans Am and Michael's Sebring in the parking lot. We flipped out and ran around for a while, snapped some pics, tried to find the burn marks from where the little bird laid upon a funeral pyre, and generally had a good time. No star sightings though (although I'm sure if we camped there all day we would eventually see someone). Very cool though. After that we headed over to a restaurant called El Cholo to meet up with Nick's buddy from a past life, Rod, and some of his friends. Wait, Rod's friends aren't coming? What are we going to do with this third pitcher of Margarita?

Nick: To-go cups? You don't have those? That's fine, we'll just take it like it is. Under my jacket. We walked a few blocks with the blender-sized container filled with that frozen concoction that helps us hang on until we made it to Rod's friend's place. There we were met with his friends, some chicas, and a general atmosphere of partying. We played kings, which isn't always my favorite but which was pretty fun this time around, then headed out to a crappy bar the girls had chosen which was packed with less-than-desirable individuals. Side note: here at the FGA (that's freaks, geeks, and automobiles) we love our women. We love our mothers, our sisters, our teachers, our friends, and all the rest of you females that can make life so very pleasant. That said, ladies, you're just the worst at picking places to go. Really. I don't know if it's a DNA thing, or if you just can't figure out what you actually want out of a night out. Get it together.

Brian: Not my favorite ladies in the whole world, not my favorite bar in the whole world, but the night was far from a total bust. We walked over to a McDonald's across the street and Nick chatted with some super nice people in a vehicle who agreed to buy us a boat-load of food.

Nick: This was probably my favorite part of the night: The guys were distraught because the burger purveyor wouldn't take our order unless we had an automobile, which we certainly did not. That's why I inquired of the couple in a nearby car if they would care to order some vittles for us. They kindly acquiesced my request. As we waited for our orders, I casually conversed with the pair beside the drive through window. Meanwhile, the restaurant was taking a little bit of time producing the requested order. As a result, an offensive fellow in the SUV behind us, supposing my conversing was the cause of the delay, thought it appropriate to roll down his window and shout vulgar expressions at me and my new friends. I don't condone violence, but I thought it appropriate to inform him that while I wasn't the source of the delay, I'd be happy for him to get out of his car and settle the matter in the parking lot. My invitation seemed to excite him considerably, as he struggled to throw open his door and charge after yours truly. His efforts were thwarted, however, by his female companion who, with no want of screaming and pulling, managed to subdue the brute. After issuing a number of distasteful yet generally humorous taunts at the would-be combatant, we thanked our generous benefactors (who refused to accept payment) and took the food with along with us.

Brian: We pounded it in the cab on the way back to Mario's house and passed out around his living room. Actually, I think we must have stopped by the car first because I woke up with my sleeping bag. That's for a different post though. Love, peace, McDonald's grease, BN out.