Hooray for Hollywood
I've finally taken the plunge and gone out to the other coast. Well, temporarily, that is. Strangely, there has yet to be any truly exotic difference here to make me prick up my ears and say, "hey, wait a minute, folks, this is new..." Nope, so far, Los Angeles has been just another American city that I can't navigate on my own.
Now, don't get me wrong, here. I've had some great times already, such as sitting in Asterios' one room "Bachelor Pad" and reading his comic books. I got soul food at a cool little place down the road. I saw some standup comedy for free at the new UCB theater, and even got some coffee at a cafe cum harem called the Bourgeois Pig (perhaps a subtle condemnation of their patrons, perhaps not). Hell, I went so far as to fully open myself to the danger of being mugged by walking down Hollywood with my head down so I could read the names on the stars.
On that note, I saw Queen's star, Gene Autry's star, Lassie's star, and Rodney Dangerfield's star, but still no sign of W.C. Fields'.
In the realm of "Big Things Happening," I finally got my ass on a plane. I think that my excitement over the novelty of this can only be rivaled by that of, say, the Wright brothers. "Holy wow!" I said to myself at liftoff, "what a wonderful invention, this aeroplane!"
And did you know that they've had these things for like, a century?
You know that tired cliche about getting stuck next to a crying baby on a crowded plane? Well, I think I figured out why it keeps coming up:
It's because there's no way to avoid it.
I always thought it was just some hackneyed observational humor, like those dreaded "airplane peanuts." You know, one of those bits that are, well, kinda sorta almost funny because it's happened to everyone?
Nope. It's a big fucking drag. No humor to be found there, just a growing hatred of small children.
Thanks, Delta!
Now, don't get me wrong, here. I've had some great times already, such as sitting in Asterios' one room "Bachelor Pad" and reading his comic books. I got soul food at a cool little place down the road. I saw some standup comedy for free at the new UCB theater, and even got some coffee at a cafe cum harem called the Bourgeois Pig (perhaps a subtle condemnation of their patrons, perhaps not). Hell, I went so far as to fully open myself to the danger of being mugged by walking down Hollywood with my head down so I could read the names on the stars.
On that note, I saw Queen's star, Gene Autry's star, Lassie's star, and Rodney Dangerfield's star, but still no sign of W.C. Fields'.
In the realm of "Big Things Happening," I finally got my ass on a plane. I think that my excitement over the novelty of this can only be rivaled by that of, say, the Wright brothers. "Holy wow!" I said to myself at liftoff, "what a wonderful invention, this aeroplane!"
And did you know that they've had these things for like, a century?
You know that tired cliche about getting stuck next to a crying baby on a crowded plane? Well, I think I figured out why it keeps coming up:
It's because there's no way to avoid it.
I always thought it was just some hackneyed observational humor, like those dreaded "airplane peanuts." You know, one of those bits that are, well, kinda sorta almost funny because it's happened to everyone?
Nope. It's a big fucking drag. No humor to be found there, just a growing hatred of small children.
Thanks, Delta!