Well, I'm back. I had a fever, and the only prescription was more blogging, so here I am.
I've come to find, in the past year, that most of the things that I used to brag about as a kid have come back to bite me in the butt.
"I've never been stung by a bee, I've never had a cavity, and I've never gone into anaphylaxis."
BUT, as of this year, thanks to Albus, the bee that gimped across the grass to fly up my pant leg, the abundant gummy worms that I can't turn down at work, and my lack of ability to familiarize myself with the nutrition facts of some of the tenants of the ETOH community I can no longer brag about my feats of avoidance.
This story in particular is about the latter of the aforementioned feats.
As partially evidenced by the picture above some individuals would appear to have impeccable taste in shoes, and a desire to get away with wearing ridiculous things in public. This is true.
I would also like to thank Goodwill Santa Monica for providing excellent garb that can be returned no questions asked within 30 days of initial purchase.
I did keep the shoes, however.
If you could measure the maximum allowable human dosage of fun it would be directly proportional to the number of hours spent (consecutively) with the shoed individual pictured above, divided by the number of activities involved, and then multiplied by the number of water bottles consumed that morning prior to the commencing of the hangout.
Although the blue tank top pictured above was part of the day's "ridiculous apparel" and acknowledged as such... one cannot help but be reminded of Jim Gaffigan's ever insightful tweets, por ejemplo:
"I need a shirt, but I also want to showcase how long my armpit hair is." -Every guy who has bought a tank top.
And as much as I would like to say that our adventure began with plastic guns and cathode ray tubes, alas and alack, it did not.
By this time of day we had already visited 2 yard sales, 1 unpaid parking meter, 1 goodwill store, 1 mexican restaurant, and 5 different public restrooms, thanks to my ingenious consumption of innumerable water bottles between the hours of 3am and 11am that very morning.
We also consumed 2 margaritas,2 baby tacos, 2 toiny steins of Nautical juice and went halvesies on a piece of white chocolate (eww). Of course, all of these events were integral parts to the days entirety.
And yet, somehow the results of this ridiculously fun day were unprecedented.
I think 8th grade was when DDR really consumed my life. Anywhere I could play I would play and while I don't believe that I ever reached my full potential, my attempt to rekindle this old flame really turned into a sad display of flailing arms and crippled feet. I'm sure my accidental selection of "expert level" had something to do with that.
The leather lace-ups scored at goodwill were quite the spectacle and I was quite jealous that my fuzzy pink boots weren't nearly as versatile.
Oh, and those shorts, those plaid shorts... gah.
If you look closely you can see a shark fin next to the dark figure in the center of the image.
Look really hard.
Ok, I lied. As if this day need an extra dose of shock and horror.
Speaking of shock and horror.
After a couple quick turns on the West Coaster we dashed to the car for a costume change and proceeded to scurry under the dock to snap a 15 minute photo shoot.
Interesting things live under the pier and they do interesting things, people mostly. (The grammatical structure of this sentence, or lack thereof was written to:
a.) confuse you
b.) make you wince
c.) remind you to order your ninja throwing stars
d.) all of the above
I'll expect a five page essay backing up your answer in my inbox first thing tomorrow morning.)
Oh dear.
This picture was taken and displayed to:
a.) confuse you
b.) make you wince
c.) remind you to order your ninja throwing stars
d.) all of the above
Although, I'm sure the photo shoot was a "feast for hobo eyes"... our stomach growls were louder than the drunken bellows resonating from the deep dark recesses under the dock... obviously a sign that we should head to dinner.
Top Chef Finalist.
The service at Stefan's L.A. Farm was quite "propa" and our waiter was sure to ask if we had any allergies and my reply "Just coffee." was answered with a "Seriously?" followed with a "That shouldn't be a problem." (If only he had said, "Yet.") The food was delightful, and the wine pairings, exquisite. Here is a brief overview of our meal.
Crispity buttery bread.
Tuna tartar with microgreens.
Black truffle ravioli.
Seared scallop with a corn puree.
Lamb.
Blackberry and chocolate mousse for dessert with a leaf of gold to aid the digestion.
Of course the night came to a smashing end when I insisted that we have an Irish car bomb.
How would I know that some brands of Irish Cream have coffee in them? How would I know that should I go into an anaphylactic state I would become disoriented and lock myself in a bathroom and tango with the toilet or drive the porcelain bus? How would I know that I would lose all of that delicious food I had consumed minutes before? How would I know that I had brilliant resources that knew not to call the ambulance because those EMTs would have more than broke the bank? How would I know that I have amazing friends that are willing to carry my lifeless body around and a bro willing to hose it off?
I didn't. But, now I do.
Cheers.
Nice stuff as usual!!!!
ReplyDelete