Well, I guess I couldn’t ask for this to last forever. We’re all packing up here, having to be out of the beach house at 10:00a. It’s partly cloudy, which is kind of funny, because it seems like the world is all sad too. 🙂
I’m working on the last couple of podcasts, they’ll be up soon, so watch for them. Thanks to everyone who watched!
Oh today… What the heck did we even do today?
Let me just start of this (hopefully short) “blooog” by saying that I have been freezing all day. Not just normal “kinda” cold, but “oh my goodness lets play badmitton or something so I can freaking warm up a bit” cold. Still cold in fact. Toes = freezing/falling off.
Anyway.
We went to Universal Studios earlier today which was actually quite fun/interesting. I love “behind the scenes” type adventures and let me tell you, Universal is chuck full of them.
Ok. I was going to write a bit more, but Ashley just came down stairs with a mini-sized bag of microwave popcorn…I’m distracted.
Enough for now.
Adam is forcing me to write this stupid blog, and my nose is red. Not at all related, but deal. Apparently my taste in music is about to be “improved.” I’m tired, and coffee has ceased to work, which is tragic, because now I have nothing to live for and , in the immortal words of Luke Chilson, I am going to “fail my life.” My clothes don’t match, except for my t-shirt, which apparently matches Adam’s, which isn’t true, and Alan looks like the American flag, so what the frolic does he know. He’s just mad because no one matches him, because most people under the age of 60 are happy to dress accordingly. It’s going to rain, and I refuse to wear a Disney poncho. Adam and Ashley are fighting like cheerleaders, flailing arms and everything. They also say ass a lot, and Adam is controlling. First he wants me to write a blog, then he wants the computer whenever he’s in the mood to be brilliant. Apparently everything is on his terms, which is going to work for me well. “Diana is beautiful and wonderful.”–Adam. Adam is under the influence of some unknown substance and doesn’t know what he is saying. He tried to help write my blog and clearly is the opposite of helpful.
I feel as if my travel-induced ranting last night may not have been amazingly informative. So here it goes:
Side note: if you are looking for a very informative, no frills, travel “blog”, just ignore the running commentary in the parenthesis.
Yesterday we arrived in (conspicuous, and possibly overrated) Orange County. I delved into the strangities of the airport and city itself last night so I will not do so this morning (however, properly executed redundancies have their moments in the sun).
After dragging our many bags (I have to say, I’m impressed by Adam’s ability to ulitize other’s luggage to create the impression that he is a very light packer) past John Wayne towards the busy flow of airport traffic, the men (in our posse) set out (leaving the women and children behind, of course) to round up our (very un-cowboy) H2 rental.
For those of you who have weaved down (or up) the 101, you know that it being called a highway is a decent stretch of the word.
(high – way [hahy-wey] -noun
1. a main road, esp. one between towns or cities
From Lincoln City to Laguna, there is nothing “between” about Highway 101. It seems like one giant tourist trap stretched our for miles along the Mighty Pacific. As a hurried traveler, one can only travel nine yards or so before running into yet another stoplight.)
Last night we went to an amazing and whimsically authentic Italian restaurant called “Ti Amo”. From atmosphere to artichoke dip, I thoroughly enjoyed this restaurant. I think that everyone else did as well.(..I’ll just assume that they did. You know what assuming does…)
Whew! Whoa! Woo-Saa! Super! Super-Duper!
Hummer.
H3 actually. It’s the truth folks; we have decided to join the ranks of environmentally-conscious men with small peniseses worldwide everywhere…stuff.
Ok, so far, the ACTUAL OC is smoggy and lukewarm. I would know, because I am here. Right now. For serious.
It seems (so far at least) that the entire state of California has a strange obsession with John Wayne. When we flew into the airport this afternoon, the flight attendant (who, naturally, you couldn’t hear over their “loud”speaker system) announced “fnah fnah blah, John Wayne, flah blan na na”. Naturally, I had a mental “what the deuce?” moment and quickly found myself intruigued. No sooner had I stepped footy off of the airplane and headed over to reclaim my (emotional) baggage when I ran (almost literally, but mostly figuratively…ok, all figuratively) into a ginormous larger than life bronzing of cowboy-style John Wayne. What the F California? You’re not lame Wyoming, your crazy party time California. You have a reputation to uphold. Pretty soon your you’re gonna be all like, “Hey, come on down to California, we’ll head over to the library for a CRAZY time! We’ll look for books and such…be all like, there are a lot of books in here!”
For serious. Step it up. Get more drugs, or gangs, or gangs of drugs.
I’ll be honest. I’ve never done this “blog” thing. Why would you shorten “weblog”? It’s two tiny words all squished together… It’s not like snigglefritz. I mean, if complaining on the internets was called snigglefritzing, well then; maybe you’d have a decent reason to shorten a word…to
snigging.
Which is still longer than “weblog”. That’s just ridic.
Oh, yeah, we’re staying at a big fancy hotel somewhere in Southern California…I can see the ocean. Everything smells like salty flowers…and exhaust.
Oh. Orange County (the actual OC), has crappy orange juice. Bleh.