We had a lovely trip to Los Angeles, thank you for asking. R Man, god love him, drove all the way, he says he likes to drive and I like to sit staring out the window. It’s a match made in heaven. We always take I-5, a highway as straight and boring as a paper cut. The high point is lunch at Harris Ranch, a cholesterol factory exactly halfway. It’s usually dependable for eye candy of the straight boy type. Which reminds me, why do you so often see ravishing straight boys paired with fat doughy wiveys? Is there some appeal to Roseanne Barr that my gay gene disguises from me?
We also got to see some disturbingly strange urinals.
I love Los Angeles. I enjoy driving around seeing the palm trees and I snagged a fabulous Brazilian body builder at the tubs (Hi, Mauricio!) and we had wonderful Mexican food at El Cholo. If you look up reviews of El Cholo online you’ll find the widest range of opinions one restaurant has ever generated. It sounds like the writers aren’t even talking about the same place. Do I care? No I do not care. I ate until my stomach hurt. Green corn tamales, love ’em.
I love Los Angeles.
I gotta go