To those of you L.A. locals who may have worried (silently) that I would be leaving town, for more humid environs and semi-acceptable opportunities:
Don't you fret.
I'm not going anywhere. I'll brave the heat, the traffic, and the neighbors who listen to slow jams. Sure, 2006 is the lamest year ever but it could only get better right?
(note: when I say 2006 isn't a good year, this is no reflection on the fine people I've met this year, be they in Wisconsin, in the east end of the San Fernando Valley, the 323 and 818 area codes. And the 626 too.)
So, in conclusion: Go Trojans. Someone should throw me a "he's not going anywhere" party. There can be poker involved. I'd throw the party myself but my friends get all whiny when they can't find a parking space and have to walk 3 blocks to my apartment. Who wouldn't want to walk past auto body shops, gang graffiti, and pet chickens?