Where were we?
Right, so we'd established my beefs with parabens and phthalates. I've met me parents, went back to the hotel and we've discussed the results of the Mahon Tribunal. Gripping.
So the next day we got up and went for breakfast. America really knows how to do breakfasts. This place had three chefs behind a counter making omelettes for you, however you wanted them. They'd a breakfast bar with sausages and rashers etc.They'd a cereal bar with Corn Flakes, Special K and Fruit Loops. FRUIT LOOPS. It's like sugar coated skittle for breakfast. They'd a bready bar too, with waffles, bagels, danished etc. They juice for fruits I've never heard of and four types of milk. FOUR TYPES OF MILK.
And yet my mother found something to complain about. The mugs. I can't remember what was wrong with them. But, damnit, there was something about them. We're a very discerning family.
We met my brother shortly after. He picked us up in a car he rented and we took a mosey around LA itself.
I don't like LA. Noone I've ever met does. It's just... not nice. Geographically, it's fucking obscene. The place never ends.
You could try and claim that I can't judge a city by driving through it for four hours, okay. But you could also go read another blog.
We DID visit Venice beach, which was pretty nice. It's all happy and smiley, there's skateparks and an outside gym. There're native Americans selling crap whittled out of wood and Vietnam vets making space landscapes with spray paint and pot lids. There're girls trying to give your prescriptions for weed and dingey t-shirt shops that make witty Jersey Shore references... probably. Venice beach is fun... for an hour.
I took a photo.
Not of Venice Beach, mind. It's a wee dog we saw nearby.
Oh, also I took another. It's of a truck. America loves its trucks.
Right, so we'd established my beefs with parabens and phthalates. I've met me parents, went back to the hotel and we've discussed the results of the Mahon Tribunal. Gripping.
So the next day we got up and went for breakfast. America really knows how to do breakfasts. This place had three chefs behind a counter making omelettes for you, however you wanted them. They'd a breakfast bar with sausages and rashers etc.They'd a cereal bar with Corn Flakes, Special K and Fruit Loops. FRUIT LOOPS. It's like sugar coated skittle for breakfast. They'd a bready bar too, with waffles, bagels, danished etc. They juice for fruits I've never heard of and four types of milk. FOUR TYPES OF MILK.
And yet my mother found something to complain about. The mugs. I can't remember what was wrong with them. But, damnit, there was something about them. We're a very discerning family.
We met my brother shortly after. He picked us up in a car he rented and we took a mosey around LA itself.
I don't like LA. Noone I've ever met does. It's just... not nice. Geographically, it's fucking obscene. The place never ends.
You could try and claim that I can't judge a city by driving through it for four hours, okay. But you could also go read another blog.
We DID visit Venice beach, which was pretty nice. It's all happy and smiley, there's skateparks and an outside gym. There're native Americans selling crap whittled out of wood and Vietnam vets making space landscapes with spray paint and pot lids. There're girls trying to give your prescriptions for weed and dingey t-shirt shops that make witty Jersey Shore references... probably. Venice beach is fun... for an hour.
I took a photo.
Oh, also I took another. It's of a truck. America loves its trucks.
I realise these things may not come as surprises to many of you people. America loves breakfast. America loves big trucks. America hates parabens and phthalates. But humour me. My photo taking was sporadic at best and I've to narrate all this crap. So if I have a photo of a building I can't remember and a cloudy sky, you're damn well gonna hear about it.
See?
Okay, I gotta go. Got less wrote than I thought I would. Less photos done too. Anyway, here's two more in rapid succession. They (I feel) successfully illustrate a key difference between the two sides of the Atlantic.
East side of the Atlantic:
West side of the Atlantic:
Clowns.
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