Christmas in LA sucks. This is my first winter out of New England and it has been everything I feared it would be. Listen, do I have Christmas lights hanging in my apartment? Yes. Have I been burning a Douglas Fir Yankee Candle all day every day? Yes. Do I have a tree in the corner and wreaths on the walls? Yes. But it's just not the same.
No snow. No assholes slipping on black ice. No getting deeply scotch drunk to take the chill out of my bones. No layering. No flannel. No boots. No 'hey doesn't this weather suck? I might kill myself tomorrow' chit chat between neighbors at the grocery store. No plow guy blocking off my driveway because he hates his job and me. Most of all, no spirit. This is supposed to be fun, god damnit.
A couple quick hitters I wanted to touch on: Mike Tomlin deserves a Razzie. Jason Kidd deserve a Best Supporting Oscar. When they kill off Paul Walker in Fast Seven it is going to be like reliving the nightmare that was Saturday night.
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