I through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.

El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles de Porciuncula.
Los Angeles is the only city in the world whose abbreviation (L.A.) is 3.63% of its full name.
3.63% ironically being the exact same percentage of me that wishes to stay in Pittsburgh a minute longer.
I don’t have many wondorous tales to tell. I didn’t get discovered while driving down the street. I didn’t lunch with Spielberg. I didn’t get liposuction.
I did roll my eyes a whole lot at a few choice ladies who will remain nameless because I may need something from them someday, but who, during the duration of my stay, I silently tried to kill with my mind.
Fucking girls. I swear to God.
I saw the sights, I ate the food, and I generally felt the need to drop everything and move there immediately, but I guess I should, you know, continue “going to my job” and “paying rent” like a chump.
I have a few pictures, although my camera is en route to Pittsburgh through the wonders of the US Mail, because apparently, I’m retarded.
But, yes, as soon as my lease is up next year (and Theater Camp is over, of course), I’m off to the lovely city of angels.
But now, I’m off to bed, dreaming of a updating my website with a better entry than this.

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