There is a neighborhood down south completely filled with gigantic identical victorian mansions, like 50 of them all at least 4 stories high, 40 rooms each, crazy jagged roof lines, bay windows, turrets, covered in dark brown shingles, you know, the whole deal. Nobody knows about the neighborhood because early in the last century an eccentric billionaire covered the entire thing with a gigantic bunker to protect it from world war II which, as the story goes, he accurately predicted 20 years in advance.
Anyway, I went there yesterday, one of the few to ever be invited. I forget the billionaires name but his super pale red headed great grand daughter was the one showing me around. He certainly was paranoid about bombs, the ceiling over this gigantic structure was pure iron and cement and over three feet thick. You can tell that he was attempting to keep the bunker a little in keeping with the victorian design, well, as much as you can with bunker materials anyway. If you can imagine a structure that is one part cathedral, one part bunker, one part parking garage and one part Donald Trump Cobwebs and filled with 50 identical victorian mansions you'll get the picture.
As much I wanted to stick around and rummage through all the vacant mansions, the reason why I was in Southern Cal was that another friend of mine was purchasing a mansion of his very own and he wanted me to come and consult bout certain possible design ideas. The place was huge and prettty cool. I was really happy that he too was going for victorian/edwardian because I was really expecting him to hop on the trendy boring train and go mid century modern, yawn. So I helped him out there for a bit making it look fantastic.
Later I met up with some siblings for lunch.
"whatcha doin in southern cal?" asked my brother.
"Oh I just bought a house down here." I said.
"Really? what did you do with your house in SF?"
"Sold it." I said. "I got 7 million for it so I bought a big victorian mansion up in the hills."
Right about then I realized I was telling a big fat lie. Not sure why it didn't seem like a lie when it first started coming out of my mouth but by the time I was finished saying it I realized that A) I didn't sell my house in SF and B) I was referring to the house my friend just bought and C) I really had no interest in moving to LA.
"Well lets go check it out." said my sister.
"Uhhh, ummm, ok, except I can't remember how to get there I don't think." I wasn't lying.
"How can you not know how to get to your own house?" asked my brother.
That's when I changed the subject.
That's also when some cousins showed up driving a red honda civic that was exactly twice the size, to scale, of a regular honda civic, a homemade version at that. It was cool because it made all the people inside it look like munchkins. Too bad it also took up two lanes on the freeway and caused major traffic jams and horrible car accidents or it might be really fun to drive around more than once a week.
Also I had sex with the red haired great grand daughter girl with the really really really white skin.
She had a blue vagina.
What can I say?
I had to.
I'm patriotic.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught believing your own accidental bullshit.
Your Time Magazine's Reflex of The Year,
Pee Shivers
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