Escape from LA -- back to Hell

They call Los Angeles the "City Of Angels." I didn't find it to be that, exactly, but I'll allow it as there are some nice folks there.

Anyway, Kate and I are back from LOS ANGELES, which was (allegedly) once known as "EL PUEBLO DE NUESTRA SEÑORA LA REINA DE LOS ANGELES DE LA PORCUINCULA" but now goes simply by L.A. Kate and I hope that it'll be down to just "La" by the time we get out there.

Speaking of there, I still haven't heard back from Fuller. I think I'll probably get in, but I'm trying not to get too excited. In fact, I'm practicing my moping in case I get a rejection letter in the mail this week.

So, really, Kate and I -- by the way (for any casual readers of this weblog) Kate is my wife, who is not to be confused with KABULO, who occaisionally posts comments under the pseudonym "Kate" -- ahem, Kate and I stayed with COLONEL RHOMBUS and MR BODDY (who himself goes by many pseudonyms) in PASADENA. It was AWESOME. We rocked and/or rolled all night and partied every day. That is, when Rhombus and Boddy weren't staying up all night to write papers on JOHN WESLEY or going to work. We played a lot of spades, I interviewed for a job, we drank Tecate and watched Kill Bill Vol. 1 at some friends' apartment. We went to a hip bar in the city (of angels), we bought some $2.60 gas, and we downed some "elixers" (?) at a trendy zen-like tea room that was overrun by RATS.

Then, we caught the 1:25 AM flight (miraculously) back to DURHAM, a.k.a. "HELL, NOW WITH EXTRA CIRCLE!"

---

The extra circle is not interminably waiting for the airport shuttle bus at Raleigh-Durham INTERNATIONAL Airport that doesn't run on Sunday, as you might guess, but it's actually populated with ALLERGENS. Specifically OAK, which is like strychnine-laced crack for my immune system. There are CAT-SIZED CHUNKS of oak pollen -- this sounds like an exaggeration but I assure you that it is not -- rolling down my street like tumbleweeds. The added torture, of course, is that we know that it's always 70 degrees and dry in Pasadena, with virtually no allergens in the air.

The dog was O.K. Our neighbor and only friend -- who is moving out of this city in ten days, the lucky bastard -- did a good job taking care of her, but she was NUTTY when we got home. She peed with excitement on Kate's pillow when we walked into the house.

Anyway, I've got 38 class days of school left. Eight weeks. To say that I'm looking forward to this summer would be an understatement. In fact, even saying that it's an understatement is an understatement.