I'm probably going to gloat about this for, like, eight years.

To all of ya'll who thought I was fucking around:

(click for bigger)

It's not huge, but I don't care: I'm officially a professional hipster. And I got Dov Charney's autograph. Yessssssss...

Why I sometimes like coming home:

At the dinner table:

Mom: So your brother hasn't been doing so hot. He just got suspended from riding the bus home for five days.
Brother: It's not THAT bad.
Me: Oh, really?
Mom: Yeah, he was giving the bus driver attitude.
Brother: She wouldn't tell me why I had to move to the front of the bus, and I told her it was my 6th amendment right to know what crime I was being charged with.
Me: Nice! But...I don't think those rules always apply to school buses.
Mom: Oh, don't encourage that behavior!
Me: What? It's a good thing that he questions authority. And it's a bonus that he actually knows his rights.
Mom: Stop it. Getting into trouble on the bus is bad behavior that shouldn't be commended.
Me: Oh yeah, what about Rosa Parks? She singlehandedly started one of the more successful Civil Rights movements in American history on a bus.
Mom: (glaring at both of her children) Well, Rosa Parks didn't have her parents on her back.
Me: No, she had the entire black community on her back.
Mom: Shut up.
Me: You just don't know about science and technology.

Hey baby, que paso?

On Saturday, I flew down to Los Angeles and fulfilled one of my dreams: I modeled for American Apparel. A shallow aspiration? Sure. But seriously, I got to do it, so fuck you.

Also, after last weekend's experience, I take back what I said months ago: LA is actually pretty cool. If you ignore the smog, the traffic, the high crime rate, the flagrant disregard for the environment, the visible socioeconomic disparities from one neighborhood to the next, and, depending on the part of the city, its plastic-y inhabitants, it's actually a really fun and "happening" place.

"Are you here for vacation? Family?" "Work." "Oh."

In LA. Updates later.