This is a road full of opportunity.
We’ve only just met, but I have a good feeling about this relationship. We met last night at a party, I’d had a little too much to drink, you were all glittery and full of promise. Or that could have been the champagne talking. It tends to ramble on and on about “big ideas” and “the value of sequined patterns in textiles” by around the third glass. Even so, we started our first morning with fresh squeezed orange juice and gluten-free apple pancakes (see below). See? Already making good on those “promises” to eat more healthy or whatever.
All that said, there are a few things I’d like to get out in the open before we continue this courtship. I need considerably more beach time. I need you to ensure that unlike that cheating whore 2011, you will not obscure my weekends with that horrid marine layer. There’s nothing worse than checking the forecast to see its sunny and 80 degrees, then showing up in Santa Monica to find the entire beach is overcast and freezing. If I have to live in that culturally barren wasteland people insist on calling LA, and driving through hoards of idiots on the 101, the least you can do is ensure that I have sunshine whenever I’m at the beach.
Furthermore, I’d really enjoy a little more Internet fame – and subsequent vacation time at the Cloyd House. These two really go hand in hand. Once people start stopping me in bars or strolling down Sunset, I’ll need a place to escape and avoid the
crowds tens of adoring fans. Also, have you seen the views down here? Fantastic (again, see below). Perhaps Gawker could hire me part time to write? A few online articles for Entertainment Weekly? Some appearances on Chelsea Handler’s round table? I’m throwing out ideas, so work with me here. 2011 was able to secure me around 100 hits per blog post, so let’s see if you can up the ante?
And as I just misinterpreted from Becca, I need to get a new catchphrase. She meant the party game, I mean the phrase that people will always associate with me, like “Shaken, not stirred” or “oops I crapped my pants.” let’s work on that. Here’s to a beautiful year-long partnership.