Blog a la Cart

1. La Brea Tarpits= the anticlimax.

2. While it is perfectly acceptable to throw “the” in front of all California highway routes (the 405, the 101, the 10), if I hear one more person say “The La Brea Tarpits,” I’m going to run them over with my overloaded stroller and my breast milk will blot out the sun. No Angeleno could fight in the shade.

3. I want to vomit all over my failed witty allusion to 300.

4.  Taking an infant to an art museum? Not my most brilliant moment.

5. Taking my husband to an art museum? Least brilliant moment in the history of least brilliant moments.

6. The descriptor “Farmer’s Market” is misleading when in reference to LA’s original: “THE Farmer’s Market”.

7. Californians love to throw “THE” around like it’s going outta style.

8. THE Farmer’s Market in LA is wildly overwhelming. Not due to the sheer amount of people and delectable sugar-ridden, grease-filled food stands; rather, because despite the food selections catering to the obese of our nation, everyone there is a tanned, toned size 0, with long-flowing bleached locks, aggressive designer sunglasses, and wrinkle-free skin. Not great for the postpartum ego. I’m going to go drown my sorrows in a plate of nachos the size of Alaska and a caramel apple the size of my engorged breasts. The apple may rival the nachos in size. And no, I will not share.

9.  I need to find me a good colorist, plastic surgeon, personal trainer and shades. STAT.

10. While it may be tempting to purchase 10 grapefruits, each sized like that of a human cranium, you will come to regret this decision when you realize no bowl in your house could possibly accommodate this purchase.

Overall, an educational and eventful Saturday afternoon in LA LA.