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Cabazon

I really love living in Southern California. Where else can you find dinosaurs on the side of the road?



Elizabeth and I took a really great day trip a few months ago to Palm Springs, and on the way there we stopped by Cabazon.



It was sunny and scorching hot, totally perfect.



If you go up in Dinny the Apatasaurus's stomach, there's an awesome souvenir shop with every cheesy dino toy you could imagine.



The weird thing is that the dinosaurs are now owned by some strange religious organization, and they put signs everywhere saying that evolution is a lie.



I don't think they could've picked a much stranger place to preach Creation than inside a dinosaur's stomach.

Pinkberry

There is a really awesome thing in California called "Pinkberry". It is not an actual fruit, or anything of that sort. It is delicious yogurt with crack-like additives that make me crave it every day. It's also a place - a place where you can see all of Hollywood's gayest hipsters, and peruse overpriced resin figures of rabbits. I really don't know what makes this yogurt so special, but I do know that I love it with chocolate chips, bananas, or on very special occasions, Cocoa Pebbles. I could eat about five and a half bowls of that, and then get three more an hour later.

The Pinkberry establishment also plays "mash-ups" nonstop, and I think there are only about 6 which they rotate through, along with the official Pinkberry song. Yes, they have a song.

The Post Office

I have to mail things at the post office on a very regular basis because of Fleet Street Scandal. Back in Washington, I mailed everything at a store right across the street from my apartment called Pony Express. I got to know the guy who ran it, and everytime he gave me the same rates. Finding a reliable person to mail things in California is a lot harder. There's a fancy post office down on Colorado in Pasadena (which looks like it used to be a train station inside) that seems to employ only the the cream of the crop in post office workers. However, some of them are incredibly anal, and make me mail the international print envelopes using World-Wide Parcel Post, which is usually around $22.80, because the envelopes are 1.5 inches too big to qualify for Global Priority Mail. Then there's others, who have that "I've been working here for 26 years and no one's gonna tell me how to do my job" look on their face, who simply scan the envelope and stick a price on it, no measuring tape involved. I recognize all the different tellers now, and let people go in front of me in line to make sure I get the best ones.

Then there's the 1970's post office down Orange Grove, where there's always a ridiculously huge line, and the tellers all look like the type you would expect to take a low-paying government job. I don't even try to mail prints there.