The generically humorous

Walking back from the gym/supermarket this evening, I passed a tiny door in North Hollywood, near the corner of Magnolia and Vineland.  Both inside and outside that door were a crowd of scruffy looking dudes, reading furiously from scripts, staring at the heavens, and moving their lips in whatever private memorization technique they were courting.

It reminded me of something Justin's friend Aeolan said yesterday, when we went shopping at Wacko: "I don't need to hustle down from work to be helped for ten minutes by intransigent hipsters who can't wipe their own asses."

Some people are just naturally hilarious.

I head for San Fran tomorrow, after a remarkably long day of hair modeling; I have to be there at 8:30am and don't leave until 2:30 pm, which seems like a very long amount of prep time.  Also, the Sassoon Academy is right over the Santa Monica Hooters.  When I remarked on it, Armand, my hairdresser, said, peevishly, "We were here first."  They must get that a lot.

Maybe when they are done doing whatever horrifying thing they are planning to do to me, they will let me free and I can go downstairs and watch the bouncy breasts.  I've never been to a Hooters.  Probably the Santa Monica one is a good place to start.  Of course, the Venice boardwalk is probably equivalent to Hooters on any given day of the week, except they wear rollerskates.