why i love los angeles reason #68:

because on any lazy saturday evening you can bring friends and booze-filled baskets to the cemetery to watch a movie projected onto a mausoleum wall complete with junebugs whizzing by your ear, the crisp air making you question your flawed it's-summer-so-i- don't-need- a-jacket logic, neighboring picnic-goers bumming smokes from you, and the cool, wet grass making your arms itch in such a way that is uncomfortable yet inviting;

only in this town is it normal to see hundreds of people exiting a cemetery at 1am, spilling onto the charmingly-filthy streets of hollywood in droves to make 15 minute treks along santa monica boulevard back to their cars.

in case you've forgotten,

this is what 5th grade graduation looks like.

tapes, samurai swords,

n' tapes. i have nothing to say except that from echo park to westwood, los angeles fucking came alive on friday. like frampton, but with less bastardry.

one of my fondest memories with the nissan

took place late one (of many) irritatingly-sleepless spring evening. usually season 1 episode 4 of the british office or a few this american life reruns does the trick, but i guess the things that are supposed to work all the time don't work when you really need them to. so i got out of bed at 3:30, hopped into the car and drove to jack in the box. i'm not sure if i decided to eat because it would help me fall asleep or because i was bored; i don't recommend the latter.

i ordered a jumbo jack (no ketchup), onion rings, and a coke. i drove back home, parked, and decided to eat in the car rather than go inside and wake everyone up. i slid open the moonroof (it's not a sunroof at 4am) and rolled the windows all the way down. then i thought, if the world is going to end today, this could very well be my last meal. so i enjoyed that jack in the box combo #3 as if it were the last earthly delight in which i would ever partake. and believe me, this made every bite and sip of this heart attack/colorectal cancer inducing comfort food oh. so. much. better.

i didn't fall asleep as easily as planned and ended up getting only 3 hours of shut eye. i woke up to the raucous midi version of the washington post, courtesy of my cellular phone's alarm. it was time to get ready for work, which meant that the world in fact did not end and that i would be alive for at least one more day. things will only get better from here, i thought.

screw jamie kennedy and stu stone,

my main man brian and his fellow little peeps are blowin up. not many bands have npr cred, but somehow they do.