San Diego has got to be one of the - if not the - most beautiful places on earth. Especially La Jolla, which is a place that should only exist in the back lots of Warner Brothers and such. Where the hell else can you frolic in caves on the beaches, with seals on one side of the beach, and warm weather penguins on the other? To say we didn't want to go back to LA would be one hell of an understatement.
Go fuck yourselves, happy couple (but enjoy the scenery while you're at it!)We were so relaxed (lots of weed and lots of beaches will do that to a person) and happy and carefree. We wandered around the beaches, we went to an Indian Festival in Balboa Park, we wandered into an Afro-Cuban dance class and had fun kicking our out-of-shape asses AND making fun of each other for making fools of ourselves, and it was pure perfection. Pure bliss. Pure happiness.
Of course then we got back to LA. Look at the difference between the serenity of San Diego, and the madness of what happened at Lucky Strike in Hollywood:
Of course then we got back to LA. Look at the difference between the serenity of San Diego, and the madness of what happened at Lucky Strike in Hollywood:
You've got a little crack under your nose, guys.
How were we not kicked out? I guess it's cause we're professional backup dancers on tour. Such is the life of a Hollywood celebrity.
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