I live in LA.
I recently decided to spend a few months in Texas. In Austin, Texas, to be specific, which to people in LA doesn’t really count as Texas. I’m not sure what to think about that. It seemed to be awful enough to count as Texas to me. There was a big music festival there while I was there. It seemed like Echo Park had invaded. I did not go. People in LA told me that I was pretty lame to miss that.
I went back to LA for a week or so. I was told that I should go to some big music festival in the desert where I would have to wait in a 10 hour line to shit in a port-a-potty and have to hang out with hippy-hipsters which are the worst kind. Apparently missing that made me ‘uncool.’
I decided to move to Costa Rica.
People there always ask me which celebrities I met while living in LA. I tell them Mel Gibson gave me a blow job once in the bathroom of the restaurant owned by the hot chick from Desperate Housewives. They don’t believe me, and it’s a lie, but I tell it anyway because I find these questions annoying. They don’t find that funny.
Yesterday I realized I might just prefer music festivals fraught with hipster aromas in awful places like Texas and deserts to living with people that just don’t get my sense of humor.
I will be home soon. And in the meantime, go hug a hipster or go somewhere you don’t want to because, my friends, it’s all you got. And all you got is probably just what you need. Kind of like this post.