burbs

So there I was, lost in Westlake Village, after having been on the Kevin and Bean show on KROQ.  I had wiped out on the moped I bought to get around, after a car clipped me and sent me flying and since there was no public transportation, there I stood, stuck in washed-out nowhere, needing to get over 50 miles away from where I was, with a bunch of idiots staring at me like I was from outer space, since I asked about a bus. 

What a nightmare.  Literally.  I woke up, looked around my room with an amazing view, realized I was still tucked safely in civilization and went back to sleep.  After that it was a crazy sex dream, but I'll keep that for me.  I think the fact that I was lost in a wasteland of suburbia with a bunch of drones looking on, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of there and faced with the prospect of walking 50 miles, illustrates how I feel about the suburbs.  Even if you have a commuter rail, it's still the middle of fucking nowhere.  That blase world of stucco, SUV's, strip malls and same-same shops which are somehow "unique" just makes me want to vomit. 

I guess I'm a for real city girl, because when someone proposed that I move out of Manhattan a few years ago, to enjoy a lovely, trashy, little hamlet called Wantagh, I threw up in my mouth and then laughed hysterically, because why in the fuck would I ever want to do that?! To sit on a train for an average of 2.5 hours a day and stare at people, instead of being out doing the things I'd be thinking about doing on the train, but would get home to late to actually get to?  Sounds idyllic; I can see the draw. 

So yeah, I'm good where I am, in a city, no car, taking the bus to work at a place at which I can be proud of working, walking everywhere else and doing stuff.  It was just a nightmare - or the first part, anyway.

I still want to know what the hell I was doing with a moped.