Cloud City T-Shirt
You know the scenario. Your buddy from the midwest visits you in February, thinking California is one big, sun-soaked beach. He steps off the plane in cargo shorts and flip flops. Much to his dismay, the weather turns out to be more Scotland than San Diego.
So he spends the rest of his stay in borrowed jeans and a "trolley car" fleece that he bought while freezing his nuts off at The Wharf.
You show him the sites -- at least the ones that are visible -- punctuating every stop with, "You should really see this in September." He finally leaves, not exactly angry, but not quite remembering why he left Minnetonka in the first place.
You feel a little bad about it. But not really. Because deep down you're grateful for the fog and chilly weather. Nah, you love the fog and chilly weather. Because you know it's the only thing preventing every rich d-bag on the planet from setting up camp here. (After all, that's what LA is for.)
So he spends the rest of his stay in borrowed jeans and a "trolley car" fleece that he bought while freezing his nuts off at The Wharf.
You show him the sites -- at least the ones that are visible -- punctuating every stop with, "You should really see this in September." He finally leaves, not exactly angry, but not quite remembering why he left Minnetonka in the first place.
You feel a little bad about it. But not really. Because deep down you're grateful for the fog and chilly weather. Nah, you love the fog and chilly weather. Because you know it's the only thing preventing every rich d-bag on the planet from setting up camp here. (After all, that's what LA is for.)
