Pas de Shabby

Oh look at that, it's Sunday morning and I've already had my cereal but would you look at that, I'm still hungry. Whatever shall I eat...

...Maybe a few of my own words?

C'est vrais. With a full week of Non-Valley Los Angeles life under my belt, I can safely say that I understand the Valley prejudice. I GET IT NOW. That shit's far away and there's nothing you can get there that you can't get on this side of the mountain. I GET IT NOW. Also, being ten minutes away from work gives me so much more time that I can even feel my fists unclenching a little bit. WHO KNEW? I realized this yesterday while I was traversing Laurel Canyon to return my old garage door opener. Enough.

The fact that this apartment was practically built with [my roombirds and] me in mind definitely doesn't hurt. I mean, yes, there are the obvious things like three perfect bedrooms that accommodate each of our individual needs, but for me it's in the details. Like, par example, our kitchen hot and cold water spouts are on backwards so C stands for hot and H stands for cold, or, as we like to say, C is for "Chaud" and H is for "How cold!". You know. Things like that.