Love and Let Go.

2011 was a wonderful year for me. I experienced so many new things, in particular, living alone, exploring a new city, and I couldn't be happier with the little niche that I carved out for myself in Venice. 

Having said that, it's time for a new chapter. It's 2012, and the changes keep coming. I bought a new car, I'm trying out some new hobbies, pursuing some new goals, and part of this new growth involves moving out of Venice. It's hard, and it feels kind of like a break up. I keep reminding myself though that every time I've gone through a break up, I've experienced a little bit of relief. Relief, because everything happens for a reason, and the hope that nothing good can begin with out something else coming to an end. Relief at the idea that this experience has changed you somehow for the better.

This week I'm moving in a with a great group of girlfriends in LA, and I am so very excited. Excited for roommates, excited for having a full kitchen, excited for living in a neighborhood where people aren't digging through your garbage at 3AM. I am hopeful for new beginnings. Of course I'll miss Venice: the boardwalk, the beach, the farmer's market (that's a tough one to leave. I wish I could just live at a farmers market),  and my sweet studio that's so tiny I have to go in the bathroom to change my mind. 

The final change that I'm going through, is that this blog is coming to an end. I started it as a way to document my life in Venice, and it's been a great place to share my experiences, trials, and accomplishments, but since my time in Venice is ending, this blog has run it's course. Now before all ten of my followers freak out (that means you, Mom) I'm starting a new blog! It's a shorter format, but I'll be able to update it more often. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning the blogosphere. I'll post the link as soon as it's live. 

So farewell for now. Here's to 2012 and new beginnings. It's time to lose sight of the shore again.

This is My Surprised Face. For Real.

My art show is tonight in Venice and I'm really, really excited. But I'm actually even more excited to talk about something I did earlier this week, and I mentioned in my last post: Monday night, I went to Camp Kilpatrick, a juvenile detention facility, to become a tutor.

Living in Los Angeles, and Venice especially, has desensitized me to a lot of things. I can turn a blind eye to the homeless guy who's climbing out of my dumpster as a I leave for work in the morning, I'm unfazed by the couple who are having a screaming match at 3PM outside my window (unless they start hitting each other, then I go break it up. Seriously.) and as for things like groups of delinquent teenagers roaming the boardwalk at all hours and throwing rocks at each other, well, this is my surprise face (see below).

It's easy to forget that the things I so easily chalk up to "living in LA" are actually people, and they have lives and stories, just like I do. And that kid roaming around the boardwalk, he's somebody's kid, and hopefully, somebody cares if he turns out okay.

So long story-long, that's why I signed up to tutor at Camp Kilpatrick. Because somebody should care what happens to these kids, and why not me?

That said, I didn't know what to expect when I got there. I had been given minimal advice from our volunteer group leader, and it was pretty much the following:

1. Don't dress provocatively ( you're in a room with eight 17-year old boys who haven't seen a female in months).
2. Don't ask the kids what the did to land in juvie.
3. Don't give them your phone number.
4. Don't promise to bring them snacks/money/cellphones/anything.

I was on board with all of those rules, especially #'s 1 and 3, but I still don't think that fully prepared me for walking into a little classroom and meeting a 17-year old boy who said his name was "Skillz". Yep. Ya heard.
Skillz is a skinny, light-skinned kid who kind of reminds me of one of my little brothers' friends. Except that he's covered in two full tattoo sleeves, he lives in Inglewood, and he's been locked up for the past 8 months for illegal possession of a firearm (he volunteered that info. I didn't break a rule).

Since it was the first day, the kids didn't know they were supposed to bring homework, and it ended up just being a 'get to know you time'. This turned out to be one of the most interesting and rewarding conversations I've had in months.

Right off the bat he told me that he was getting out of juvie in 14 days. After I congratulated him, he told me that he was trying to make a plan to finish school and join the Navy. I told him that I thought that was a great choice, and that he could get his college tuition paid for through the Navy. Making eye contact with me for the first time, he turned to me excitedly and said, "I know! and I'm going to go culinary arts school!"

That caught me totally off guard, but that's when I realized this kid and I had a lot in common: He's bright, he likes to cook, and he's clearly artistic (as showcased by his tattoos of Chuckie from Rugrats and the Louis Vuitton logo) he doesn't like to play sports, and he misses his mom.  We spent the rest of the afternoon making plans for how he was going to get back on track after being incarcerated. At the end of our time together, I told him that he had a great life ahead of him, and that if he stayed focused, I was sure he could achieve all of the goals that we had discussed. He looked up at me and said, "Thanks. I mean, I know that. But it's nice to hear someone else say it. Cause it means you don't think I'm a f*ck up."

That stuck with me. I realized, that this isn't at all about correcting spelling and grammar, or getting a kid to read on 11th grade level.

It's about being the person who tells a kid who's made a mistake, that his life isn't ruined, and he can still have a great future, and that just because you're in a bad situation doesn't mean you have to stay there.

It's about being someone who cares one way or the other.

I can't wait to go back next week.

Downtown Cinderella

On television, living in LA usually looks very glamorous. In reality, it's not; I spend most of my days working 8 hours to make a modest living, hanging out with friends, and generally just trying to keep things interesting. But every once in a while, the LA stars align and I get to do something really cool.

This past weekend, I got to go to the Spinster's Ball and explore the finer side of Downtown LA living.

Now before you say it, I know you're thinking, "Why on God's green earth would you want to be associated with anything called Spinsters?!?!" Trust me, I was thinking the same thing. It turns out, the Spinsters are a very old-money, elite social/charity organization that puts on these grand events every year, and in spite of bringing to mind the image of an unmarried smelly-old cat lady, they are actually a very exclusive, well- respected group of young ladies. Granted, I'm only friends with one person who's in Spinsters, but she's incredibly friendly and fun, so I'm giving the entire the organization the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, to make a long story short, due to some scheduling magic and a very generous invitation, I got to attend the ball with several girlfriends.

Similar to Cinderella, I had a few obstacles to overcome before the ball. The chief one being, that the ball was black tie, and I needed to procure a gown. Luckily for me, my parents live about an two hours away, and my Mom has graciously not thrown away all of my junk from teenage years, so I took a trip home, and brought back all of my formal gowns from high school. Let me tell you, if you are feeling a little to cocky and self-assured, try on some of your clothes from junior year of high school. It's like a swift kick in the face. Luckily for me, 1 out of the 4 formal ball gowns that I own still fit, so although there was no fairy godmother involved, I got my dress.

So last saturday, ball gown in tow, I arrived at the Downtown Los Angeles Biltmore hotel, where my friends, Marisa, Lauren, Brittany and I were staying. Biltmore is absolutely gorgeous. Downtown can be a seedy, hodge-podge of noise, traffic, smog and people, but the Biltmore and the area surrounding it can only be described as old-hollywood glamour. Everything is gilded, and has ornate frames, and there are about 9 different people you're supposed to tip during a 48-hour stay. That's how you know it's classy.

After we absorbed the shock of how nice everything was, we went up to our room to get ready, and then met up with some friends before walking about half a block to the Cicada which was where the ball was held.

After seeing how beautiful and historic the Biltmore was, I couldn't imagine that the Cicada could be any more stately and beautiful, but once again, my expectations were exceeded. We entered a sprawling ballroom with old fashioned fixtures, and chandeliers, dimly-lit, with tables covered in black linens and delicate white hydrangeas. There was a live band, a winding staircase, and lots, and lots, (and lots) of champagne. It was swanky.

Did I mention there was champagne?

Some important things to note about this ball: It did not contain prince charmings, a waltz, or chaperones. It did contain a four-course steak dinner, men in kilts, and a very interesting assortment of lawyers, investment bankers and people who didn't actually know how to articulate what they did for a living, but were liberal in talking about the excess of wealth they possessed (It takes all kinds to make a high society event).

Anyhow, we met lots of interesting people, ate until we were stuffed and danced the night away... and then when that was over, we went back to our hotel and danced some more.

That's right. We party hard. and then we promptly fell asleep exactly 10 minutes later.

The next day, I was expecting my carriage to turn back into a honda civic pumpkin, but we woke up and decided to prolong our Los Angeles staycation by going to brunch and exploring downtown. A short walk led us to one of the most beautiful bakeries I have ever seen: Bottega Louie. The food and atmosphere at Louie are phenomenal and the service was impeccable. Words don't even do it justice, so I'll resist the urge to try to describe it, and just show you:

Photos courtesy of the Bottega Louie blog: http://www.bottegalouie.blogspot.com/

You would think that by this time, we would have had enough of Downtown LA, but no, we decided to make one more stop on our Los Angeles Staycation. The Standard Hotel. Now, to preface, I've been to the rooftop pool at The Standard many times, but this was the first time I've been during the day. In my several visits, I've noticed several trends: It's always crowded and the bouncers are always unfriendly (even though you pay to get in, whether you are a girl, a boy, or Cindy Crawford herself). In their defense, The Standard hotel is a very modern, chic establishment, and I'm sure they have to regulate who they let in, but I've got to say, for all of their posh and sleek exterior, they have terrible guest relations.

That said, It's a really cool pool. There are water bed pods, and a giant pool that's level with the surface of the ground, and topiary unicorns, and it goes without saying they've cornered the market on afternoon pool parties in the middle of LA's concrete jungle (note: the Biltmore should build a pool). All in all, once you weigh the snobbery against the beauty and charm, I guess you break even, which pretty accurately sums up Los Angeles as well. 

 My downtown vacation was very fun and glamorous, but I can't picture myself living like that every day. For one thing, it costs $40 a day to park your car, and there are hipsters with knee tattoos who say things like "Oh my gaaaaawd. We drove all the way from Silverlake to go to this pool party, and it's $20.00!". I'm not sure I could ever adjust to that.  Even without that though, I think I'm content with spending my weekends riding my bike, going to farmers markets and being a beach city girl, and just playing dress up every now and then.

Cheers to Summer Stay-cays!

Hike to the Hollywood Sign: It's so El Lay.

There are so many tourist-ey things to do in LA. There's the Hollywood walk of fame, Rodeo Drive, lunch at the Ivy, and of course going to the Hollywood sign. They're the sort of things that you think to yourself, "Hey, I live here, I should do that." and then you never do. Up until I came to Pepperdine, I had no idea that you can actually hike to the Hollywood sign. Somehow, even though Campus Recreation leads a hike up there every semester, I never managed to go. I blame it on too many trips to the Malibu Inn and Sunset Bar & Grill  tests I had to study for.

Long story short, a couple of weeks ago, a few of my friends suggested that we go on the hike, and since I'd been putting it off, I thought, "Why not? It's summer, I'm young, and somewhat active, this will be fun."

Well, it would have been more fun if I had remembered to bring tennis shoes on the morning of the hike. Nevertheless, we were already planning on going, so I gamely decided to do the hike in flip flops (in hindsight, this was totally unintentional, but very LA. No one wears appropriate footwear here). We drove up into the Hollywood Hills, passing posh mansions, and cars that cost more than my parents' house. When we finally parked, we saw that the Hollywood sign was fairly close. It just happened to be up a steep trail-less incline.

Un-daunted, we decided the most logical thing to do was to take some pictures. I should probably explain, we were under the impression that there would be a clearly marked path to the sign, but instead of looking up how to get to it beforehand, someone in our group (who will remain nameless) just googled "Hollywood Sign" and that was the means we used to find ourselves at the base of this hill.

After an appropriate amount of jumping pictures and high fives, we stopped a woman who was jogging by and asked her how to get to the actual hike. She told us it was just around the corner and through a small gate, and that the sign was about a half hour hike up the hill. We proceeded to walk around the corner, only to find a small dirt path that dead ended in some trees. So naturally, we stopped to take more pictures.

Clearly, we were very focused on the task at hand. About twenty minutes later, we realized that we simply hadn't walked far enough, because the "trail" up to the sign was actually a large, paved road that went all the way to the top. Yet another example of how well Los Angeles tolerates nature. On the other hand, the asphalt road made the fact that I was wearing flip flops much less of a problem. It also eased the path for the army of mommy-hikers with strollers who were out on that fine Monday morning. Honestly, it was like the 405, only with toddlers in strollers and men wearing baby bjorns.

The hike took us longer than thirty minutes, but that could have something to do with all of the pictures we stopped to take. When reached the top we were greeted with two very interesting facts:

1. There were about fifty people milling around the summit of the hike. Starbucks is probably going to open up a franchise there next week. It was SO crowded.

2. The end of the hike actually spits you out behind and above the Hollywood sign, and there's about 60 feet and a chain link fence that separates you from the actual letters of the sign. This was a tiny bit disappointing, as it meant I could not climb inside one of the "O"'s and stick my head out, which is what I was hoping for.

Even though the City of Los Angeles did not want anyone to use the Hollywood sign as a jungle gym, the view from the top was really lovely. We could see allllll the way across town to the ocean. Ahhhh.

Everyone should go hike to the Hollywood sign. It's a quick, fun hike, you'll get some fresh air in your lungs, see lots of other tourists, and the view is totally worth it. Don't expect a warm welcome from the locals, though.

"TOURISTS GO AWAY"

Big thanks to our epic-hike photographer, LG, for stopping to take a million pictures!

No Bad Days.

So life's been a little...rough lately.
Nothing terrible just the usual, run-of-the-mill, slightly crappy things:

I'm fighting a cold (and losing).

My NCAA bracket is just shot to pieces.

I got hit in the head with a volleyball (more than once) this weekend (this is not news because it happens frequently, but its still not fun).

The City of Hermosa Beach sent me an early birthday present: It's a parking ticket.

My bike has a flat tire.

Glee is a rerun again this week. 

I locked myself out of my apartment.

Gas is $4.19 per gallon.

But you know what? I really can't complain.
I'd like to complain, but I watched Sixteen Candles last week, and if I learned anything from that classic 80's film, it's that complaining is not attractive, and generally makes you no fun and disagreeable to everyone (except for the highschool quarterback, who doesn't yet know what an awful whiner you are). Furthermore, I'm far to lucky and loved to complain about the above things which are really just small nuisances in the grand scheme of things.

In case I needed another reason to appreciate life, when I go for walks in the evening in my neighborhood, this is what I get to see:

Even if I had a terrible day, it almost always ends with that view, and the fact that tomorrow will be better. So like I said, no bad days.

On merriment, dressing up and good cheer

It's Christmastime! You know what that means? Holiday Party time. I love a good holiday party, and this year I have the good fortune of getting to attend an assortment of Holiday parties. In fact, my close friends are having their annual Christmas/White Elephant GetDown tonight, and I couldn't be more excited if Santa himself came down and gave me a brand new a Ferrari being driven by Ryan Reynolds (but Santa, if you're reading this, I've been SO so good this year). 

Speaking of being good, it's time for me to get on my soapbox and talk about giving to the less fortunate during the Holidays, and how you can have an absolutely amazing time doing it. I present you with the Santa Monica Holiday Pub Crawl. I know what you're thinking, "Janae, this is just another excuse for you to wear a holiday costume and guilt everyone else into wearing one too." And given the evidence of the photo below, you would not be incorrect in thinking this.

I especially love matching costumes.

You would also be correcting in thinking that getting dressed up is not something that my friends and I strictly reserve for Christmas. Pretty much any holiday will do. It's kind of our theme, as you can see:

 

Halloween.

A random Tuesday Night.

Wearing winter clothes counts as a costume in SoCal.

New Year's Eve we get Fancy. (except Courtney, who's wearing Uggs in this photo. Unacceptable.)

Clearly, I do love holidays and costumes, and this event includes both, but the icing on the cake is that it's for charity, and it's giving back to the Santa Monica community that's come to be so near and dear to me. And if that doesn't melt your little heart, it benefits the Westside Food Bank, as in people who don't have any food. You can't say no to that. So here's how it works:
1. Go to the website and sign up.
2. Pick a route (there are three): Wilshire, Main St. or the Pier.
3. Show up, preferably with a group of friends and and 3 non-perishable canned goods each or $5 at the drop off place for your route (this is clearly the most important part).
4.Get a wristband and spend the evening wandering from bar to bar spreading Christmas merriment and cheer!

Even if you don't drink, you'll also get to socialize with other fun Westsiders and  get specials on yummy treats at a lot of cool spots in Santa Monica, in addition to doing your part to help your fellow man.

Lastly, I have a little pre-christmas gift for the lovely people that read my blog. Anyone who knows me well, knows there's nothing I love more than a good mixtape, and so in the spirit of christmas cheer, I've made you all a mix, with my favorite Christmas/winter-y/ songs I'm currently digging. Click away! Happy Holidays!

Beach City Girl Christmas Mix

You Can Thank Me Later: Fave Raves #1

Yay it's almost Thanksgiving! If you're like me, that's pretty much all you can think about right now, and I promise there will be a delightful post with pictures about my thankfulness for friends and family, and the various holiday gatherings of both, but it's a short week, (which has nothing to do with the length of my posts, usually) and I have something special for you today:

Fave Raves.

You're so excited, I know!!! And you're also wondering "What the heck is a Fave Rave?!"

Glad you asked. Fave Rave is a list of 5 people, places, or things that I am currently obsessed with. Sometimes, I get bored and stagnant, and I need something to look forward to, and the best cure for that is a list of straight up Awesomeness.

So, here's the first of many Fave Raves that I intend to occasionally spice up my blog with, and you're welcome.

1. C&O's Trattoria
 Okay, if you live in LA, and you haven't been to this restaurant at the beach in Venice, you have been deprived, and I'm crying a little for you. I just rekindled my love for this cute Italian bistro because I recently went there on a first date, and also for a group birthday dinner. Besides the absolutely wonderful food and my stellar dining companions, I realized what makes this place so special is the ambiance. You can sit on the heated outdoor patio, the trees are strung with twinkle lights, and at a special point in the evening, everyone sings "That's Amore". It's the perfect setting for a big meal with  a group of friends or a nice dinner date, and you can't go wrong with a big bottle of chianti on every table. If that atmosphere and the singing don't loosen you up, that sure will.

It's like: having dinner in a beautiful backyard in Italy.

2. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
This book should come with a warning label: Don't start reading this if you have somewhere to be or something important to do in the next 3 hours, because you will skip it in order to finish this book. Seriously, I stayed up all night reading this book. and by all night, I mean until 11:30PM. Ever since I read the entire Twilight series in 5 days, I've been incredibly a little ashamed of myself and my reading preferences, but this book is written for the exact same crazed teenage girl audience, and has 100 times more literary merit. I don't want to give away the plot, but the heroine in this book makes Bella Swan look like a toenail clipping. I defy you to read this and not be dazzled by it. Thanks, to my good friend Liz for turning me on to this addiction.

It's like: Crack cocaine. In book form.

3. Pencil Skirts
Okay, hear me out on this. I know you're like "Seriously. Pencil skirts?" Yes. They're cute, you can wear them to work, and they're very Fall weather friendly (like I know anything about that), but up until recently, I always thought they were for Other People. Super skinny Other People with no butts. Boy, was I wrong. I just purchased the best pencil skirt from Charlotte Russe in the new Santa Monica Place mall, and I can't believe it, but I don't look like a whale. It's very forgiving,  incredibly flattering, versatile and most of all so comfortable. Plus, it was under $30. I would like to wear it to work every. single. day. Get one:http://www.charlotterusse.com/product/index.jsp?productId=4327874&cp=4078198.4238852.4238872

It feels like: a really, really sexy pair of sweat pants.

4. Movember
Now that I'm done talking about skirts, I can bring up more important topics. Like curing cancer. My good friend Scott recently invited me to a Movember Party, which is basically a bunch of guys with mustaches raising money for prostate cancer research. During the whole month of November, these guys grow out ridiculous awesome mustaches, and put on fun events to raise funds for Livestrong (remember those little yellow bands?). Well this is a kicked up version of cancer research fundraising. There are teams, and games, and galas, and it's a great cause and lot of fun (even if you are a girl and cannot and do not want to grow a 'stache). Check it out here, and donate to team 'Save the Dudes!': http://us.movember.com/

It's like: Tom Selleck asking you to donate to charity. And no one says no to Tom.

5. Smitten Kitchen
This is the food blog to end all food blogs. Deb, the woman who writes this blog is a triple threat: she's a really funny writer, an amazing photographer, and makes the most delicious recipes that I've ever laid eyes on. If this woman wasn't already married (and a woman) I'd marry her. I went through a phase last year where I'd get bored at work around lunch time, and pick something to make for dinner solely based on what was on Smitten Kitchen that day. I may or may not have gained 6 pounds. Seriously, if you're in a cooking rut, or just want to drool for a while at your desk, take a peek: http://smittenkitchen.com/

It's like: porn. Yeah, I said it.

Do you have something/someone/some place awesome you think I should feature in a future Fave Rave? Tell me, because I'd love to check it out.

And On the 8th day, God created Valet Parking.

Well, it's another Monday, which means yesterday was Sunday, and sometimes on Sundays (when I'm not losing at slow pitch softball), I like to go to church. Since I've moved to Venice though, I've run into a bit of a problem.

Over the summer, I went to a church off and on in Hollywood that I really, really liked. The congregation was young and fun, the music and the sermons always felt relevant to me, and although it was a big church and I didn't know many people, I felt like I had found a niche. Now, church is something I grew up with, and that my family takes pretty seriously, but I've just recently as an adult felt compelled to go of my own free will. (Yes, I was the child who tried to fake appendicitis to get out of going to church. My parent's solution to this was that they took me to church anyway so they could pray that Jesus would heal me. I didn't get away with much).

So for me to have found a church that I identified with and genuinely enjoyed attending was a pretty big deal. Unfortunately, after the move, driving from Venice to Hollywood for a Sunday morning service was a little inconvenient (and by a little, I mean a lot). 

So, like any LA dweller I attempted to adapt to my surroundings by finding a church closer to me. I tried one or two, but they just weren't quite what I was looking for, so this weekend, I called up my old roommate, Liz, and we decided to make the drive to the church in Hollywood.

There wasn't a lot of traffic but the drive still took us about 40 minutes and we were about 5 minutes late. The Sunday service meets in a large highschool auditorium, and because this is LA, the highschool has a parking garage (go figure). So we were surprised when we reached the intersection to turn into the parking garage, and there was a line of cars practically around the block. when we finally got to the entrance of the garage we saw a sandwich board sign that said "LOT FULL". No big deal, we thought, we decided to circle the block and park on the street.

We went around the block. Twice. Not a single parking space at noon on a Sunday. Liz mentioned that she heard this church had gotten more popular because UCLA was back in session and a lot of students attend. Furthermore, Details Magazine just wrote a big article about this particular church and their hip approach to the Christian faith. Well, 10 minutes later, we were still outside of this hip center of faith, looking for a parking spot, and we decided to drive by the parking garage again. No luck, the "Lot Full" sign was still in place.

Just as we were about to pass the entrance, we saw two cars coming out. "Hey Liz, don't you think if there are two cars coming out, then that must mean that there are two empty spaces in the garage now even though it says the lot is full?" I reasoned.

Liz agreed with my assessment, and after 2 minutes more of hasty consultation, we decided we would just scooch the sign over a few feet, and drive in and take a peek. This proved to be a TERRIBLE idea:

We got about 20 feet inside the parking structure before a woman in her early twenties came over, waving her arms for us to turn around. We rolled down our window, and she quickly explained that the lot was full, and that we needed to turn around.

"Okay, no problem,"  Liz said. "But where should we park? We've circled a few times and there are no spots on the street." The woman looked at us blankly, and then said "Well then I guess you should get here earlier."

True story. But not so helpful.

As this conversation was happening, another parking attendant was hurriedly approaching our car, and said "Did you take the sign?!" Liz and I exchanged glances, and then saw that two more cars had followed us into the garage. I shifted around uncomfortably and then called out the window and said, "Um, no the sign is still there." It wasn't exactly a lie, I hadn't stolen the sign. I mean, we were on our way to church, after all.

We proceeded to drive down the aisle so that we could turn around at the end, and in the process, were waved away by several more annoyed looking parking attendants. Just as we were making our way back toward the exit, a very upset looking hipster-parking attendant strode very quickly up to our car and put one hand out in the universal sign for "Halt!". Now, before I continue, I want all of you to picture this man. He looked like this: 

photo credit: American Apparel

Except he was wearing a skinny tie and corduroys. And he was not smiling. He was an Irate Hipster. Usually hipsters span a range of emotions from pleased to smug or superior to bored, so we were very taken aback by the level of angry that this man was. The following conversation ensued:

Irate Hipster: YOU moved the sign.

Liz: Yes, and we are very, very sorry. We thought that since a car was coming out-

Irate H.: Well, just so you know that is extremely frustrating and and upsetting to us! We are completely full, and we now have other people trying to get in here! And for your information, I am trying to be graceful with you about this but, like that is just, not cool. In fact, that is so, like, disrespectful and just so inconsiderate!

Liz: Yes, we are so sorry. We are leaving right-

Irate H.: Look, we're cool, okay. But that was NOT okay, and, like seriously, that was just totally uncalled for and really disrespectful. Next time, you just need to get here earlier, like everyone else and find a parking space. Moving that sign, just makes this, like really difficult for us, and is very frustrating to us. I'm trying to be graceful here, but that was just NOT COOL  and you two-

Liz, Me: We're sorry.

The Irate Hipster, who by this time was turning very red in the face, cast his eyes towards heaven, as if to call on help from above, and then let us be on our way.

Liz and I exited the parking garage in shock and silence. We drove about two more blocks looking for a parking space, before we looked at each other and decided that the Spirit was leading us to go home have sandwiches and watch the Kardashians instead of making a further effort to attend a church where we'd be packed in like sardines to hear a sermon with 1,800 hipsters who would be annoyed at us for coming in late.

So that's what we did. We're still in the market for a good church, but we've decided that maybe that church isn't quite our scene. In their defense, we did move the sign (never again, I swear) and I'm sure the whole church is not represented by one very angry man in too tight pants, but I'm also pretty sure I'd rather attend a church with a very friendly bunch of nice blue-haired old ladies than nearly get strangled for trying to find a parking spot in Hollywood just so I can worship in the same place as Joe Jonas.

P.S. If you know of any good, youthful churches in the Santa Monica area, get at me. Seriously.