So, I just got back from a week in California! What a strange land. I didn't see Arnold Schwarzenegger once. But all those things they say about Pinkberry are true! There was a line out the door at the one I went to in L.A., and it was populated by teenagers wearing Penn sweatshirts and carrying Louis Vuitton bags, and talking about when their parents would be out of town. Also, very skinny women saying that the 8 oz. Pinkberry yogurt has 40 grams of sugar! Put down the spoon, lady. I also went for a walk around Brentwood, and came across a first-floor apartment with a large window facing the street. It had several of those cat play-structure things stacked on top of each other. It looked like they took over the whole room! And there was a cat staring at me from the window. WEIRD. But the best part of my trip to California was a conversation I overheard at a Carl's Jr. on Highway 5.

Yesterday, I was trying to get home from Miami, but the weather had other plans, and the plane I was on got diverted to Washington, D.C. To Dulles Airport, to be exact, which is way farther outside of the city than I thought? But why would I ever go there? Exactly. Anyway! I gave up and got off the plane, and made my way to Union Station, where I sat at a bar and drank red wine and ate some weird fake tandoori chicken salad thing, and next to me was the most ridiculous first date I've ever had the opportunity to overhear.