shewasavisitor

Another post from the past.

This one reminds me of a time not too long ago when I was happily officeless. My days were hot and long and carefree, all year ’round. I was cooking up a storm on the regular, marveling in everything about my new locale, and living each day to the fullest as it presented itself to me. A piece of my heart will always exist in Los Angeles.

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My life my life my life my life in the sunshine

We all know it’s happening: The Hills is entering its final season. Guilty Plej Alert: I have a relationship with The Hills. LA is a monster of a metropolis and as The Hills entered the world, LA entered my world. Recognising bits and pieces of my new town on a show that is so glammed-up is really quite fun. I’m going to miss all the swooping heli-shots of Runyon Canyon, The ‘bu, Urth Caffe, etc. My fondness exists because I hang at these places too.

The only difference is that I’m older than most of the characters on the show, and that my life is utterly boring in comparison. While on yesterday’s run, I amused myself with thoughts of what would happen if The Hills happened to be about my life. The helicopter would have to continue over the Hollywood sign to the rows of studios behind it. There, it would zoom in on our little gated community. In the beginning of one episode, I’d be hanging out on our limited-space balcony, likely watering my pansies/affectionately squeezing the grapefruit hanging off our tree (checking for doneness). E and I would exchange some boring words about taking out the garbage (which will later be juicily edited), and then there’d be a cut where the next scene would be some swooping bird’s-eye view of the 222 Sun Valley as E rides the bus to work up near the Burbank airport. Emo music would blast as they’d film him pensively thinking about what might be on the lunch menu.

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