Orange County has grown since I was last here.
The last I remember, Weir Canyon road ended at a dead end not too far south of the 91. Tonight, we went up that way for dinner, and it just kept going, up past housing developments that look just the same as any others in Anaheim Hills.
In a strip mall that looks like any other, (which can’t have been there for more than three or four years) tucked between a Starbucks and a Subway, across from a Blockbuster Video, was this little Mediterranean place that broke the franchise monotony. It was filled with people that almost looked like I should recognize them. I realized, with a little bit of peoplewatching, that the reason why they all looked so familiar was because they were just so… “Orange County.” It’s hard to describe, but it’s sort of a “grown up yuppie” plus “Angel’s fan” plus a bunch of other things. It’s also very whitebread. I noticed the same thing at the airport when we were picking up my Grandmother last night.
I don’t know what the point of that was.
We watched Lilo and Stitch tonight, my Mom and Grandma hadn’t seen it. I’m also most of the way through Pattern Recognition. That book is giving me a warm fuzzy feeling that I don’t want to end when I finish reading it. At one point (pretty early on) he mentions a Macintosh G4 Cube, and I had to repress the urge to jump up and down, pointing at the book, screaming “I have one of those!”
I forgot to mention it yesterday, but as I was driving down the 5 Wednesday night, I was reminded of why I never want to live in L.A. again: a billboard sign advertising an Impotence Clinic.