Today I did some things

I went to the Getty. And then I went to LA. I took a few hundred photos (not exaggerating). Here are some of them:

Okay, first let me tell you about the time I did that thing with the cheese. That was a few weeks ago. Danny (Savanna's boyfriend) needed some photos of cheese taken for some sort or school thing, and I was happy to oblige. So we went to Trader Joe's and picked up a smelly, runny, gooey, disgusting wedge of bleu cheese. There it is on the ground in the lower right corner.

And here it is again. We drove out to 170th St. or something like that in my sister's sporty new car (it has a G meter), unwrapped the cheese, and slapped it down on the pavement. Then I proceeded to lie in the middle of the road and take photos of it, getting up occasionally to avoid being run over by oncoming traffic, taking this ungodly dairy product with me. My and Danny's hands smelled rancid by the time we were done. Every time I brought my hand up to focus, I smelled it. Ew.

Then my sister ran it over.

If you ever have the chance to personally witness a large wedge of bleu cheese being hit by a Nissan Sentra SER driven by a small blond girl, I strongly recommend you do it. The sound of dense French cheese being run over at 40 or 50 mph by a medium sized sedan is one of the funniest sounds I have ever heard. You wouldn't understand unless you were there.

So anyway, today I went to the Getty with a girl named Bridgette. She had never been and seemed pretty excited about the whole tram thing. There she is. Ain't she cute?

There was a very pretty Asian woman on the tram, but I only got a photo of the back of her head. It's a pretty nice head, don't you think?

I took lots of pictures of Bridgette because I'm a creep like that.

I'll never understand why so many people at the Getty wear backpacks. It's one of the few places I feel out of place due to my method of carrying my belongings. What ever happened to pockets?

So we had to leave pretty early because we had things to to in Beverly Hills. By "things to do" I mean "strangers to take photos of." So I practiced this a bit on the tram ride back to the parking structure.

There's Bertha parked in front of a very nice, large house on Beverly Dr. She didn't fit in very well there, I must admit.

There's a big tree in the little park by the Beverly Hills sign. People have carved things like this all over it. I don't know who Ruth and Gino are, but I hope they're still together because that would be nice. Like, cheesy bullshit chick flick nice. Cute.

I'm really bad at adjusting my shutter speed when the clouds go away. Good thing I'm changing my major, hey?

I'm almost positive she didn't notice half of the pictures I took of her. I'm a creep.

There was a gaudy, hideous Bugatti parked on Rodeo Dr. I guess it belonged to some guy who died. I feel like that's what he gets for defacing such a beastly car in this way. Anything with four turbochargers deserves more respect than this.

Attempting to hone my stranger-photographing skillz.

The Tiffany & Co. storefront is oppressive. I do not appreciate it in the least.

Rodeo Dr. has the classiest fire hydrants I have ever seen. I have to admit they're a little garish, insofar as a fire hydrant can be garish.

I think everyone in this photo, excluding the young policefellow, wanted to punch the aforementioned young policefellow in the mouth. I know I did.

This woman got out of a Porsche Panamera, so I felt the need to follow her for about a block, taking pictures of her ugly oatmeal colored sweater and her too-long jeans.

There was this black man being followed by a cameraman or two, trailing an entourage of sorts and being altogether much too cocky and pompous for someone who looks like they weigh about 145 lbs. But hey.

So then we drove to Hollywood, where there was this woman wearing very nice-looking sunglasses asking for money. I didn't give her any. I did, however, give a forlorn looking homeless man my box of Triscuits because his sign said "I'M HUNGRY." I believed him; he started eating my emergency cracker stash the second he sat back down like it was the first thing he'd eaten in weeks.

I went home eventually. There are more photos, but I'm much too lazy to upload them.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day, you know. I'm going to get up early and make my Mama San breakfast. Because she's awesome. Like, really awesome. I adore my mother, even though I inherited my bad back, lactose intolerance and sausage toes from her. I also got some bitchin' nice teeth and great taste in hair tint from her. She's rad. So here's a pretty photo of my pretty Mama San for Mother's Day.