Los Angeles Angst

I did not take one single, solitary blessed photograph on my short trip to Los Angeles.

Le Sigh.

Should I explain why? Probably.

I took my camera.

I lugged it all the way with me in my backpack along with my laptop and lipgloss.

And then I left it in my hotel room. I can't say why, for sure. Actually, yes I can. I did it because I intended to go to Disneyland. And I also intended not to lose it at Disneyland while riding fun rides. So. There. No camera.

Lame.

Because I didn't even go to Disneyland.

And still, the saddest thing about this story so far (to me, at least) is that I didn't have my camera.

Again, LAME.

I'm not sad about not going to Disneyland. I mean, do you know how much it costs to visit that place for a day?
$68.
And I only wanted to ride Pirates of the Caribbean, which has been ruined by the way, in the recent renovations Disney made to it. (About three years ago.)

So anyway.
I was in LA for work. Did you know that LA is a 50 minute flight from San Fran? How convenient, right? I didn't have to work until Monday, but I was supposed to fly down there on Sunday. So I took an early flight, wanting to see some friends and visit the now ruined Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

I should tell you.

I do not like LA. I do not like the hollywood-ness of the place or the plastic-ness of so many of the people. So I never bother to go. Northern California may as well be on a different planet entirely from it's southern counterpart. And before this trip, I had never bothered to visit anyplace in LA besides LA proper, Anaheim, San Diego (which I DO like... I mean, who can help it?) and Long Beach (blech!).

I began the day visiting with an old, old friend. Old as in old school. Jr. High school, to be vaguely precise. One of my buddies and his wife now live in Anaheim. So I had a yummy lunch and long, fun chat with them. Thanks Lars & Steph!

I love my friends!

And then, when I was once again in my car and about to head to Disneyland around 4pm, my college bestie, Jake (I'm a guy-friend kinda girl, have you noticed? They're the best!) texted me saying that he was home early from visiting with his family and wanted to chill. He's from Huntington Beach and I haven't seen him in a couple of years. So I took my LA-prejudiced butt over to his place. When he found out that I had never been to his beloved homeland or surrounding cities, he shook his head incredulously at me and proceeded to tour me around. We saw Newport and went to the Beach and to Huntington Beach's pier and had Milkshakes at Ruby's (if you haven't been, go!) and then, for old-times' sake, we went back to his place and played a couple of rounds of Rummikub. I won the first round. *Woo!* He won the second.

And somewhere, between the movie-perfect little beach towns and the stunning-beyond-words sunset that glowed like a giant, flaming orange, hovering over the multi-million dollar beach homes in Laguna Beach, my southern Cal angst died a little bit. And I could not think Jake was quite so silly for loving it there so much.

Blast.

So the prognosis? I'm not sure. But I don't hate all of Southern California anymore. But I don't love it either. Well, maybe I do. A little bit. The part with the gorgeous beaches that are easily accessible year round. Because, let's face it, it takes at least an hour to get to any beach from where I live.

Curses.

Jake took the only picture I have from the trip. Good times.

In other news, right now I'm on my birthday trip. You remember? The one that I'll turn the big _____ on. Tomorrow, in fact.

Cheers.