So I’m hanging out in front of a store in West Hollywood the other day, and I see a spanking new Carrera Turbo roll up and the passenger door opens. Out of the car comes one of LA’s ubiquitously beautiful blonde babes. But before I can roll my eyes, a beam of light shines onto the driver side and I realize, the person behind the wheel is Ellen DeGeneres. And exiting the Porsche is well..Portia, DeRossi, that is, Ellen’s wife.
Only in LA is the simple act of spouse shuffling perfectly spectacular. Portia jumped out of the Carrera and into her pimped out Range Rover, presumably so she can go home and feed the cats while her significant other dances her way through $2 million an episode. Just another day at the office, honey. Do I sound jealous? Damn straight!
That evening, I head to the grocery store and see this: apparently Ferrari drivers need booster seats too. And cheap wine. This is the fourth Ferrari sighting at this particular branch of Trader Joe’s this month– that’s West Hollywood in case you’re wondering where to snap up a TriTip and spot a $200k ride in the same trip.
Only in LA.
Only in LA is this considered an acceptable form of animal transportation. So wrong, yet so acceptable here in crazy town.
Bring a kid into a restaurant, or an elderly person into a posh boutique and you’ll get the hairy eye. But here in LA, 75% of women kiss their butt-licking, ass-sniffing and occasssional feces eating animals on the mouth. Delicious.
And, on another corner, another Porsche gets the full LA treatment. Blocked, completely immobile, not by traffic but by paparrazzi. This time it was Drew Barrymore, just trying to live a normal life..LA style.