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
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