Have you ever gotten hot flashes, but you are no where near being menopausal yet?
Two words-Venice Beach.
Venice Beach, where do I begin.
I won’t even go into the man on the roller-skates who looks like he needs a bath. I would normally go right up to him
and take a p
icture, but he looked so questionable. I could see the smell in his aura like a black cloud. So, I took a picture from a far.
Walking down the boardwalk was such a nice trot, so nice that it made me hungry. So I had to stop by a hot dog stand. After I put all my condiments, I started walking again, but this time towards the beach. Then it happened. I almost squeezed my hot dog out of its buns. Betixing my eyes, all I saw was skin.
Talk about hot dog! 
There they were. Men, in all shades and flavors.
Black and white buffet for everyone!
Sadly no, Japenese men. They are now the soup du jour (you know how I do). I spent the night watching my fav sexed up movie of all time-“The Lover” (which will be an entire post in itself, honey chile)!!! All buttered up with their arms glistening under the weight of the sun. And for some strange reason, they all must have worked up a sweat cause possums they all had their shirts off! Every single one of them!
Now I know what hot flashes feels like.
At first I thought it was the sun, but I beg to differ. The men were hawt!
Where were all the baggy pants that young men were supposed to be wearing these days? Chile, they must have left them back in Toronto! Why should L.A. be any different? I kept on hoping that their shorts would fall down, but unfortunately no dice! Up and down they went jostling each other to get that big hard massive balls, ahem, I mean ball, in the small little hole.
But, I digress.
No use getting myself all hot and bothered when I am all alone. So know I am just plain bothered.
Sweaty men aside, I love Venice. I felt so down with its people.
And there were soo many people. I love walking along the boardwalk and see what all the many vendors had to offer. Some junk and others not. I was tempted to buy a wooden carved boogie board and had to be talked out of it. I don’t care if I can’t swim and really have no purpose for it. I just thought it would look quaint beside my wooden carved Buddha (the one I tell everyone it is form Mozambique, but is from Pier One) in my living room.
Corporations were out there in full force, giving away free stuff. So, I took a free fan and a couple of cans of Coke Zero.
But, let me tell you… it looked like Coke.
It popped and fizzed like Coke.
But, it sure as hell ain’t taste like Coke!
I don’t give a care if it says, “Real Coke Taste”. It is the same thing that drug dealers say about the coke they sell, but then they go and mix it up with other drugs. Or, who wants marijuana laced with Coke either and then instead of just being plain ass hungry afterwards, you are hungry and messed up! All of the sudden the Twinkies are talking to each other in the middle of your late night cravings at the local convenience store? Not that I know this for sure. It is definitely just a for instance!
So, I promptly threw the stuff away! So to get the taste out of my mouth, I did try to find a Pink Berry store, but couldn’t find it nowhere, so I walked back to the car…of course, with a small detour past the men playing with their
balls.
And my possums, I leave you with this thought for the day-the art of war may be learned in a quick pick-up game of basketball, but the art of men is the real true battle.