It feels like summer in LA. I just took a warm and windy walk to the dry cleaners and purchased myself a Miller High Life on the way home. The Champagne of Beers always reminds me of visiting Robbie in this apartment, before it was mine too, and painting the walls Lion beige while swilling a six pack.

But much as I love our Los Feliz abode, there is something that completely baffles me about my neighborhood–the littering epidemic. And I’m not just talking about gum wrappers and cigarette butts, folks. No, in my neighborhood you are just as likely to stumble upon discarded teddy bears, diapers, and a pair of old man’s trousers alongside a half-eaten Happy Meal. Seriously, what the flying fuck is that about? Are you leaving that sad teddy in a pile of ketchup as charity?

You will note that in the picture above, there is a pink shirt, a sofa cushion, and some random wood on a palm leaf. I have a theory that when people move out here in Little Armenia, they just open the window and start throwing. It sounds kind of therapeutic, actually. But it’s a serious downer for our neighborhood beautification project.

Anyways, in other Angelino news, I read today on YourTango that a new Trojan survey says that we LA locals are getting laid more than other Americans (135 times a year compared to 120). Shaft, suckers (or not, as it were). But apparently we are also the biggest fakers of orgasms. Hmmm, when you combine the porn star community with the actor population, those stats seem to make sense…

Off to throw my old shoes and dishes out the window now. Ta ta