Make Mine Mike

Boom-boom-chick... boom-boom-chick... I'm here in Venice, my name ain't Dennis, I don't play tennis, I ain't no menace but you can suck my pennis...

I hope our bikes are safe. If they get stolen, at least I'd have a new blog post. And for a title: Tales from the Kryptonite.

What's with all the guys in the pork pie hats these days?

What should I blog about today?

Man, fingerprints are kinda psychedelic if you stare at them long enough...

Why are they called pork pie hats?

What was the answer to that acrostic clue in the Times about Edna Ferber?

Hey, isn't that Lori Petty across the street?

Wait a minute. "Tales from the Kryptonite"? Jeez, that sounds like some awful children's book Nicolas Cage would write for his kid -- what'd he name him? Kal-El? I'm naming my kid after Superman's nemesis: Make Mine Mxyzptlk.

How long do I have to wait for Adelphia to browse through another overpriced clothing store here on Abbot Kinney?

Do people think I'm store security standing out here? Or just some loitering loser who isn't hip enough to hang here. After all, where's my pork pie hat?

A Peculiar Treasure! That was the Edna Ferber book!

I'm hungry.

Who was Abbot Kinney? I think I read he was from New Jersey. So why did they name a street after him here? Maybe Hackensack was some dude from Malibu...

Why are omelets so popular? Wouldn't people prefer the ingredients mixed into the eggs rather than just cocooned inside the fluffy egg exterior? Is it that omelets are easier to say than frittatas? I dunno, I could go for a bodacious set of frittatas...

Adelphia may be slow but she sure is cute.

Boom-boom-chick... Boom-boom-chick... My girl is browsy, I'm getting drowsy... My raps are lousy...

I oughta get a new watch. I don't even know what these little dials do... except look kinda cool.

Maybe I oughta think of a blog post while I'm waiting out here.

Man, I could go for some pork pie...