Monday, June 9, 2014

What The Hell Am I Doing Drinking In LA (at 96)

The Dixie Motel on Hollywood and Western in Los Angeles was my home away from home for three luxurious nights.  

There was a beautiful street view.


Hand painted mural.

In-room amenities featured such luxuries as decaf coffee, plastic cups wrapped in plastic and nothing but one solitary old ketchup package in the mini bar fridge.

An iron was inexplicably fastened to the wall two feet from the ceiling nowhere near the only functioning electrical outlet in the room.

I've said it before but I'll say again: is that a really gross old kleenex shoved in a hole in the bathroom wall or are you just really glad to see me?

Tissues made from the skin of actual virgins!

This cup sadly held no joy or hot liquids for my entire stay. It did hold tepid tap water that I drank copious amounts of hungover every morning (because I forgot the night before).

I studied the religions of the world (it's a growth industry allegedly).

But like all good things our time eventually had to end and we tearfully bid adieu promising to always keep in touch and never go to sleep mad.

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