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And it's a great night, not too cool, not too hot.  The great kind of weather where you could walk outside and note the Los Feliz trendoids and so-cute-little-hip stores forever.  And, well, I am kinda hot in this jacket.  Which actually means I am a little drunk.  No, tipsy.  You know what the difference is between drunk and tipsy?  Tipsy is charming, drunk is annoying.  I am tipsy.  I am charmingly tipsy. 

Boldly tipsy.  Oh, no way could I do this sober.  Too many thoughts would stop me.  And yeah, I'm thinking all this shit, but since I'm charmingly tipsy, I'm able to regard these thoughts in a charmingly tipsy way.  Oh isn't that cute, she's overthinking it again.  Tee hee, tee hee, tee hee.  On to business.  Look at that gorgeous hunk of man walking next to you.  Damn, he sure is fine.  Yes he is.  Why don't you just tell him you love him.  Tell him now.  Okay, now.  Okay, no really.  NOW.

We stop at a store window and we're staring at the world's ugliest shirt.  

 

It's a red man's shirt, and it's a bunch of dogs smoking cigars and playing poker and it's SO damn ugly that you know it probably costs something like $200.  

Who is the person that wears this shirt?  Who is the person that WANTS to wear this shirt?  What's WRONG with that person, that THAT'S the shirt they'd wear?  And then Ethan turns to me and says "What do you think?"

"I love you."