P.U.

Warning: DO NOT SPEND TIME IN RIVERSIDE, CA.

It smells like cows and my pores immediately opened up to welcome in all the dust and dirt that is flying around. Had I known that was going to happen I would have brought those facials in a package things with me. I feel like I shoved my face into a sandbox that hasn't been refreshed in years. Ewe.

I had the unpleasure of spending roughly an hour in Riverside (AKA: the "909") today for work purposes. I had never actually stopped there. I've driven by numerous times on the way to Palm Springs, but, stop? No. Until today.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure a lot of people thoroughly enjoy Riverside and have strong loyalties to it and the school systems probably rock and all that (uh ok). It just plain amazes me that only 45 miles east of downtown Los Angeles, is this whole other world. A world where yellow Mazda Miatas with bumper stickers saying, "My other ride is your girlfriend" exist. And Camaros drive around with "I Love Vagina" stickers. "Where am I?" I thought. "A strange twilight zone where everyone loses their automobile sense of couth and style (but obviously not their sex drives)?"

After completing my assignment I hauled ass like the Mustang has never hauled before to get back to the LA LA Land. Here we just have giant muffler things and hydraulics. But I felt like I was home.

(And by the way, I don't want any smart ass remarks from people who reside/were born in/party/work/raise children/own homes/etc in Riverside. It's my blog and I can write whatever I damn well please. The place smells and the bumper stickers speak for themselves. So there.)