Traffic School

NO NO NO NO NO. I just spent at least half an hour typing up a blog and then I pressed 'publish' and it disappeared! NO!!!!!!!! I just might cry. It was pretty freaking funny too. I had Ryan in stitches. I don't think I have the strength to recreate.

Well, you’re not going to get the good version. I’ll just warn you. You’re getting whatever I have the energy left to hack up…

Driving in Los Angeles is a whole other world, my friends. And I, being the selfless goat I am, do not want you to enter this world without a little forewarning. So – you have been forewarned.

Tips and tidbits:
1) Yellow lights do not mean yield. If you yield to a yellow light in Los Angeles you are officially an asshole. Everyone runs them. Even cops. I’ve seen it. Just think of yellow lights as green and continue on your way. It’s the first five or so seconds of the red light that are equivalent to the rest of the world’s yellow.
2) Going along with that… green lights don’t mean go. They mean ‘wait for the people running the red light to finish, then go.’
3) When someone signals to indicate that they want to change lanes, let them. They’re going to go whether you do or not, so it’s in your best interest to allow it. You can use this to your advantage. If you want to get over and there’s no space, simply put on your signal. They’ll let you in. For all they know you might be crazy enough to do it without their help.
4) Bring a friend. Carpool lanes are god’s gift to LA driving. While the solo drivers are poking along at a mere 15 mph, the cool people in the carpool lane are cruising by at 45. I’d advise sticking your tongue out as you pass. Oh, and feel free to yell something along the lines of, “Hey, asshole! See that smog that engulfs your fair city? That thick shit that makes it so that I can’t see my hand in front of my face? That’s your fault, jackass. Yeah, you, in the porche. And you, in the Hummer! Don’t think I don’t see you! Bring a buddy, next time. Do you hear me? A BUDDY!”
5) I don’t know if it’s legal or not, but it seems to be the general consensus that motorcycles need not stay in lanes. They can go wherever the hell they want. Shoulder? Sure! Bike lane? Absolutely! Along that dashed line? Why not! Between those two semis? Don’t mind if I do!
6) When someone tells you to take a freeway, don’t let them give you the name. Ask for the number. If they tell you to take the Hollywood Freeway, they could be referring to the 170 or the 101. The Ventura Freeway? The 101 or the 134. Oh, and the 101 also goes by the Santa Ana Freeway. Which is also one of the names of Interstate 5. Or, “the five.” Or you could call it the Golden State Freeway, or perhaps the San Diego Freeway. The 405 is also called the San Diego Freeway, though… so be careful not to get confused. Maybe you’d like to take the 10, aka the Santa Monica Freeway. You might know it by it’s other name – the San Bernadino Freeway. Not to be confused with the other San Bernadino Freeway, the 215…

I went to see “Shark Tale” today in the world’s largest ­­­_____. I don't even know what we're supposed to call this monstrosity. I looked it up. Some refer to it as ‘an upscale dining, shopping and entertainment destination’. I call it LA’s answer to Vegas. Complete with Bellagio water show. This place was so crazy huge that it has its own trolley system. And for some reason I was always confused as to whether I was outside or inside. There were lights strung up to look like a ceiling, and space heaters to keep the temperature comfortably hot. And even in the parking garage – when I knew I was outside, I was walking on plush carpet that was lit by chandeliers and watching HDTV on large flatscreen monitors. And the theatre… yikes. This thing was like an elegant hotel. Red carpet, marble everything, golden chandeliers everywhere. They even had the staff dolled up like bellhops – hat and all. It’s called The Grove. You know, cause it’s all natural. RIGHT. And I suppose I’d need a valet for my limo when I go to pick some oranges. Just throw in a few multi-named freeways…