Beverly Hills, baby.

I love driving. And the open road. (That's my new driving buddy, Scout.)

The ability to jump in the car and go see all sorts of things is incredible. Even before I got my license, I was obsessed with the go-kart my family had. When I finally got a car, I didn't have my license yet and my parents said I could drive on the stipulation that I didn't leave the driveway. You'd better believe that every day after school I was in that damn Geo Prism going up and down the driveway.

If semis weren't so abnormally large, I would totally drive for a living. Just drive around the country seeing new sights and meeting new people.

I was in Disneyland for Labor Day helping out at the half-marathon. The boss took me all around the parks to pick up the clocks following the race and I was like a kid in a candy store. People don't understand that coming from the mid-west Disney is sort of a big deal - it's an opportunity saved for the rich or families who save up all of their money for a vacation. Anaheim was pretty sweet, too.

(Heading down Santa Monica Blvd near West Hollywood.)
Today I drove to Beverly Hills. I took the 60 there, so it was a traffic-filled boring drive. On the way back, we'll say I took an alternative route (I got a little lost) and got a chance to see Rodeo Drive, West Hollywood, Hollywood, Sunset Boulevard, the Hollywood sign and the Hollywood Video IN Hollywood. Oh, and I saw a prostitute. Yeah, that's right. A real, live one.

Los Angeles is very weird - it goes from this strange ghetto to all of these cultural areas (Thai town, Little Armenia, this Latino district) to BMWs and Cadillacs and millions of dollar homes on Rodeo Drive all in an instant.