For A Moment We Realized You Cared.

The Uber driver this morning wasn't even beginning to feel Franklin, but since he drove like a batshit Luftwaffe and managed to avoid the construction on Santa Monica we tipped him all the same, but seriously it is like daggers to the soul every time a driver ignores the Franklin.

Working the two gigs I have quickly realized that what passes for normal in Century City or the Westfield Mall proper is straight up Rent-boy Euro-Trash in downtown LA so I have decided to govern myself accordingly and have packed some Ralph Lauren along with the Han Cholo when I do my mid-day Barbarella costume change side-gig switcheroo.

Not that I have anything even approaching a 'side gig'. I mean not even the time I worked in the pizza shop for free pizza.

Someone on the downtown project asked me about that after endlessly prattling on about something they may or may not have done in a place called New York City and I had to disappoint them. They asked me if I had a side-gig and I just answered 'No. Fishing?' There was a pregnant pause replete with misunderstanding before I added 'and bridge'. Still another pregnant pause, and the one also from New York who can do nothing to hide his still noticeable Russian accent and his unquenchable thirst for the newest of new money tries to clear his throat and I am about to add 'petit-point' to the list of responses to their impertinences when I decide that would just be cruel.

I can become quite impressed with myself if I allow it.

For now I'm already on the Westside and I am demolishing carbs at a rate that would make an elephant blush. I may just stay here. This Ubering from project to project to airport to project to Marshals to Which Wich and back again is just starting to touch. One hungers for a normal life and perhaps a properly toasted Which Wich,