It was so damn cold in Los Angeles this weekend. One of these reasons I like living in LA is the fact that when the weekend rolls around, it will be warm. I'll have the option to go to the beach boyeeeee, go mountain climbing brah, or just sit and read "Edgar Sawtelle" on my roof. But when the weekend is gray, and when the weekend is frigid, and the roof is the last place I wanna be, something is off in this town.
Whenever I talk to people back East, I take a little bit of pleasure in being like "What, it's snowing, and freezing back in Boston? Jeez, you don't say, it's sunny and blue skies here man, wow what a difference." But this weekend it was a different story "It's about 45, blue skies, the snow is melting, and the birds are chirping," said my Pops, who was currently located in Boston.
I know this gray spell is a temporary, and before you know it I'll be down in Santa Monica, spiking volleyballs, slaying, swimming in the ocean, and killing sharks with my hands.