Even teenagers need breaks from their hectic summer schedules of sleeping in, roaming the house with nothing to do, plotting your demise...
So the ol' Vergara Posse made their way down to the giant 'hood known as Los Angeles for a week. The first night, we're sleeping on inflatable beds in my G'ma's living room and we did not sleep at all. Let me lay out the land for you. The street is wide enough for one car to drive through and one whole side of the street is completely filled with cars. If you see one open space, jump for it, even if that's not even your street, because chances are that you're not going to find another parking space for about a decade. LA is that crowded. Then, there's the hotshot next door with a wife, newborn kid, and souped up car that has had more money spent on it than the rest of his family. Oh, and don't forget his fuzzy loveable pet, his new minibike. So, maybe it's his way of relaxin', you know, just chillin' after work. After all, who doesn't love a warm sunny afternoon/night, with hours to spend on RIDING HIS FREAKIN' MINIBIKE with a motor that you can hear in the next timezone. I'm serious. It's midnight, and this guy is out riding this thing the size of a Hot Wheels toy and waking up the whole neighborhood. Yes, a nice time to practice charity. I like how my grandpa so kindly put it. "One of these days, I'm going to take that old pellet gun and give him a few in the head." Not only that, but he rides it in the afternoons, (kindly mowing that lawn for his neighbors in that he goes over their grass and rips it up) with his baby boy in his laps. The poor child is an endangered species.
So the ol' Vergara Posse made their way down to the giant 'hood known as Los Angeles for a week. The first night, we're sleeping on inflatable beds in my G'ma's living room and we did not sleep at all. Let me lay out the land for you. The street is wide enough for one car to drive through and one whole side of the street is completely filled with cars. If you see one open space, jump for it, even if that's not even your street, because chances are that you're not going to find another parking space for about a decade. LA is that crowded. Then, there's the hotshot next door with a wife, newborn kid, and souped up car that has had more money spent on it than the rest of his family. Oh, and don't forget his fuzzy loveable pet, his new minibike. So, maybe it's his way of relaxin', you know, just chillin' after work. After all, who doesn't love a warm sunny afternoon/night, with hours to spend on RIDING HIS FREAKIN' MINIBIKE with a motor that you can hear in the next timezone. I'm serious. It's midnight, and this guy is out riding this thing the size of a Hot Wheels toy and waking up the whole neighborhood. Yes, a nice time to practice charity. I like how my grandpa so kindly put it. "One of these days, I'm going to take that old pellet gun and give him a few in the head." Not only that, but he rides it in the afternoons, (kindly mowing that lawn for his neighbors in that he goes over their grass and rips it up) with his baby boy in his laps. The poor child is an endangered species.
And then there's the punks who drive by in their modified little cars and rip down the itty bitty street at gazillion miles an hour, making their cars rumble out a subtle "LOOK AT ME I'M SO BADASS". And then the garbage trucks pass by early like five in the morning. They sound like they're ingesting another car. Any minute, I could have snapped and yelled at them all to shut up.
To the right, a photo of me waking up that first morning.
I feel like those old men that wave their canes in a rather threatening manner at the kids screaming "Damn kids, get off my lawn!" as audibly as my dentures allow.
Anyway. My aunt took me to a ballet of Romeo and Juliet which was absolutely magnificent. I was wrapped up in the rapturous beauty of the dance and the magnificent costumes until my cousing Jasmine, who is entering freshman year in highschool, leans over to me and says "Those guys in tights don't look like they're wearing anything at all." I don't know why men can't wear some loose clothing or at least some other kind of pants that allow movement. Because from that moment on, it was kind of hard to concentrate on the storyline when there are five men doing leaps across the stage in skin colored tights with the physique of the statue of David. Thank you, God, for men with beautiful leg muscles.
That reminds me...on our road trip back from LA (Los Angeles, not Lousiana), we stopped by Santa Barbara (lovely town, except for the nightlife which consists of a road of nichtclubs and bars filled with unsavory characters that stumble across your way so precarioiusly, they are obviously drunk). As it was a Sunday, we went to Mass at the Mission. I forget what order of priests are in charge of the Missions but they were brown robes and sandals. Anyway, the priest officiating the Mass was young (compared to the Mission itself), bearded, and friendly in the "So anyone from out of town? Let's all welcome Anna Sassin from Washington and Gene Poole from Conneticut with a round of applause" kind of way. He does his homily which was fine, and then walks back to the altar while the lady, who must have been in her forties, leans over to her mother and whispers audibly "Wow, that's one good looking priest." I've seen very handsome priests before but still, it just feels like blasphemy to say such a thing out loud (especially during Mass!). It's one of those things that you just can't say, like "Gee, you're fat" or "Your dad's hot". How can you say that your priest is cute? It's just...awkward.
Vacation was great though, it really was. Monterey was fantastic although it was dark and cloudy all the time. The view of the ocean was marvellous though. I wish I had a nice camera to take pictures because it was so picture perfect. It was night time, and gray sky and gray sea and you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Just an endless expanse of thundering waves and thundering clouds.
That reminds me...While in LA my lil bro and I went to the beach with the cousins and received a thorough sunburn. I feel like a patchwork doll. I will tell you, though, that some people should not, for anything in the world, wear speedoes. Please. For the love of God and for the sake of our eyes. Don't.
The return home. We are greeted by a cat who yells her welcome backs and a dead bird in our hallway. A welcoming gift, to be sure. She was rewarded by Ewws and Awws.
There's no place like home.
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