We chose this apartment by process of elimination. As in: we eliminated the possibility of living anywhere else located between his office and my office, because its all ghetto!
Don’t get me wrong, I love this neighborhood. People cut and water their grass, sweep their porches, decorate for holidays, the whole nine yards. The few blocks surrounding us are all very pleasant, you know: houses, trees, sidewalks, warehouses, railroad cars, houses, trees, sidewalks… Oh, wait! See, that’s the thing. Its an industrial town. Every few blocks there’s the remnants of what used to be a familiar chain super market, ice-cream shop, video rental store. There aren’t enough residents in this town to support the familiar favorites that you can find in a half-mile radius in other suburbs. This is the last Los Angeles suburb that only has ONE “Fourbucks” coffee joint within the city limits. Not that I’m a fan of “Fourbucks,” but come on! Fourbucks is everywhere, why not here?
Where does a 20-something newlywed meet her girlfriends for a chat in this town? The local cocktail bar with the Grandpamobiles parked out front? I think the secret handshake involves a Pompadour comb-over!
There’s a high school down the street, we could smoke cigarettes and be melancholy behind the gym… except that I don’t smoke!
Like, we could like so totally go hang out at the mall in the next town, that would be like so totally righteous… but I like stopped saying “like” like six times in a sentence when I was like eleven years old. That’s like so like 1987.
Chinese food? Sure, we got that, its the restaurant with the big blue B on the front window! Not the kind of place you take a friend!
There is one thing that this town does right, and that is Mexican restaurants.
So: Who wants to meet me down the street for a hot cup of taquitos?