McLovin?

Tomorrow morning I have an appointment at the DMV. Boo! California requires you to get a new photo for your driver's license every 10 years. For 10 years I've been using this awesome photo I took when I was 18 years old. I was HOT! It's the best photo I've ever taken. And now it's going to the trash because I'm fucking old! I hate California.

Password Troubles

I guess it's a sign that you've not blogged often enough when Blogger and Firefox don't remember you and you can't remember the log-in information yourself... Oops.

No Photos in Pinkberry

Last Thursday, I was hanging out with my mother at the Grove, Los Angeles' favorite fake main street. The Grove can be an overcrowded, obnoxious scene of hipsters, fakesters, and poseurs galore. But it also has a decent movie theatre for matinees and a new sushi restaurant that has all-you-can-eat sushi for a good price. (Thanks Erin for the tip.) Next to the Grove is the Farmer's Market. Besides being a relic of a bygone tourist trap, the Grove is the home to a new Pinkberry, a very strange Pinkberry that never seems to be crowded.

I thought the lines were shipped in from Pinkberry HQ somewhere in Asia. Apparently, the trend ain't so hot with the Midwest tourist set. So, I had to take an advantage of the un-scene Pinkberry and grab one with my mom. It was at this lonely Pinkberry moment that I learned, "Tsk. Tsk. No pictures in Pinkberry. Corporate policy."

The unsuspecting, Ugg-wearing poseurs were quick to slip their cameras back in to their oversized purses and giggle their way out of the store. But I was bothered by this. Does a store that only serves frozen yogurt -- not cutting edge since the Penguin's invasion of the 1980s -- and fruit or trendy cereal, really have a corporate secret to protect? What could a photo reveal that my memory couldn't carry with it to the outside of the store? Sheesh.