It’s fucking weird how I only have to drive 30-some odd miles from home to feel like I’m on vacation. Hell, I live in Venice-fucking-beach for chrissakes, a place where people take their vacations. And I’m literally a hundred yards from the beach. So my daily life is pretty much vacation-worthy, if hippies, homeless people, and gangbangers spell v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n. I guess when you live somewhere for a while you take it for granted, which I’m guilty of doing. Anyway, my young (oh, and I mean young) girlfriend decides we’re going to Magic Mountain yesterday. I was excited but honestly, I think I was more excited that she was excited. Regardless, it turned out to be ass-loads of fun.

We started off the day by going to the LA Courthouse so that she could pay off the last of her DUI fine. In just a few more weeks she’ll get her license back. I’m happy for her (sort of, um, ok not really) that she’ll be back in the driver’s seat. Then we jumped into traffic and headed to Valencia, home of our local Six Flags park. Lucky for us, traffic wasn’t bad at all and we got there just as the park opened. By the time we got on the tram to the front gate, I wasn’t just excited that she was excited. I was excited cuz I was excited.

When we got into the park, we did the first thing we do wherever we go—we peed. We are the peeingest fools on the planet. Then, because we were starving, we did what most sensible people would do. We got in line to ride their newest ride, X2.

The line was ninety minutes. You know what you should do the minute you get really, really hungry? Go outside in the searing heat, stand there for an hour and a half, then jump in your car and drive it off of a cliff. That’ll give you some indication of how we felt. Once we got off of the mediocre ride (regular coasters were better), we immediately walked in circles around Magic Mountain until we finally almost died of starvation and heat exhaustion. Eventually, we found a Papa John’s pizza and, for a mere twenty U.S. dollars, were able to secure two slices of pizza, one “free” side of cheesy bread, and a single, medium Coke. Quite a bargain if you ask me. Oh, I know I’m making it out to be worse than it was because, one thing I didn’t tell you was that I’d already had a Coke while waiting in line for X2. They have vending machines in line now. That was news to me and, when I saw it, I was thrilled. A little ice-cold refreshment and sugar to tide me over til we rode the ride and found the food. That sonofabitch was $3.50. For a regular sized Coke. Seriously, for $3.50 somebody needs to pour that fucker into my mouth for me. I mean goddamn.

Ok, I ate and now I’m not grumpy anymore. The rest of the day was a fucking blast. We rode a few more coasters like Goliath, Viper, and my favorite, Tatsu (which incidentally, I believe is also a sushi restaurant). Then we bought a six hundred dollar bottle of water and some Dippin’ Dots and went home. I think we’d have lasted longer but it was hot, we were tired, and there were way too many fat people in skimpy clothes.

The drive home was so fast I couldn’t believe it. We virtually flew back to Venice and the minute we got home I stripped my sweaty ass down to my underwear and took a nap while Erin folded laundry and worked on her fourth step. Then we had sex, showered, dyed her hair, ate, and went to bed around 9pm.

It felt like I’d been on vacation for days.