Saturday, July 16
Only Californians would brace for a Carpocalypse
It's made national news. A major LA freeway is closing...Christ is here! Drink the juice!
No, you dumbass locals...wait, if this will help with population control, then I'm all for it.
Anyways, since we're [we're thinking] the closest in the milblogging community to this "catastrophic meltdown," we'll do our best Anderson Cooper to inform the masses.
The 405. That little strip of black. 10 miles of who the hell cares where it goes. As you can see, we reside far from the 405. When's the last time we ventured inland? Umm...LAX for Oregon. That's when. The fact that we live out in the beach means there's no reason for us to go inland, except for REI, IKEA, Middle Sister, and LAX. Where's Middle Sister? Pasadena! A 60-mile adventure which can take an hour or 2 depending on the idiots that have obtained a California license. Then come August, post-honeymoon, she'll move her possessions down to Santa Ana...and be even longer drive for us to visit. Gah!
News releases have begged/pleaded/ransom'd that Casey Anthony will kill your children (too soon?) for Californians to stay home. But native Californians are a dense bunch. They'll commute from my black-box'd neighborhood to DOWNTOWN Los Angeles. And this isn't like commuting to the District from neighboring D.C. suburbs where they've nearly perfecting slugging, HOV lanes, and massive traffic. It's a shit-show here. And I want nothing of it.
Where will I be this weekend? Where I am nearly every weekend...at home. I'll probably crack the doors and windows, enjoy the breeze as I live a mile from the beach, and maybe whip up some baked goods. Oh, and maybe shower. Maybe.
At least this weekend is starting off right. The dog got her walk and I got my coffee.
In your face, LA, in your face.