Things I learned this weekend:
That there is a Los Angeles branch of the Parrothead Society.
That Walk the Line is a really good movie – one of the few biopics that didn’t make you feel like you were visiting the Officially Sanctioned Museum of (insert name of biopic subject), tiptoeing quietly so as not to disrupt the “Do Not Touch” signs.
That the preceding paragraph’s metaphor failed completely.
That my new employer’s basketball team isn’t quite as good as its football team.
That a certain rabbi is a very good screenwriter.
That Wilshire Blvd. (from the ocean to downtown) can easily function as its own universe. It’s got the housing, the infrastructure, the businesses, and – on that stretch by the V.A. Hospital – it’s got Satan.
1 comment:
Ali Husband,
You might be pleased to know that I've done all I can to eradicate our kitchen of aunts, I mean ants. I've scoured every surface, nook, and cranny, including the floor, and I've even patched up the hole they were streaming from with spackle. If the aunts, I mean ants, come back, I have no idea what they're looking for. I've also given the igloo a thourough cleaning. Seymour should like that, fucking Eskimo that he is.
Love, Linglo
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