Monday Funday

Yesterday, in non-celebration of Dr. King's non-birthday, I joined two ridiculously amazing fellows on a journey to Los Angeles. Sam drove and Alex and I pointed out interesting and hilarious signs and billboard proclamations. We hit up Amoeba, and eventually, I took a lone stroll through the neighboring areas, as the boys skimmed the fatty goodness off of the buttermilk of Amoeba, for a good two hours, mind you. It was quite pleasant; a little rainy, and I must say, I have never been proposed to quite so many times in one day, by the plethora of homeless males and females who hid beneath the eves of every possible storefront, attempting to miss each and every goutte de pluie. One rotund little man, who suspiciously resembled Santa Claus, gazed at me warmly, and as I smiled back, he jumped on the chance of fishing for my phone number and whistling, and mentioning other non-mentionables. At least I "look mighty fine TODAY." At any rate, I found my way back to Amoeba, that intimidating world of fine musical collections and many a fashion statement to be made, and after a few more rustlins' and bustlins' of records, the boys made their purchases, and we sauntered out into the daylight. We bee-lined it to Fullerton, where Alex showed us a little history of his educational upbringings, and an amazing little restaurant called Rutabegorz. The innards reminded me of a little italian restaurant that I've always found quite endearing. I was quite jealous of a bit of wall art which we came across, this being a small table with an ideal breakfast set up adorning it's surface, open books included. Well, we chatted and chattered and chewed, and it was all very lovely. As the boys aren't very fond of photographs being taken of them, I snatched up what I could, and these are a few of the results. Good day, indeed.