Shout out to Helen, who, despite a serious and impairing hangover, despite having to detour off the path a few times to hurl, managed to be the most fantastically upbeat and charming marning-walk-to-Venice buddy a girl could ask for. And shout outs to the City of Santa Monica Parks and Rec department for having the forsight to install loos at approximately every 100 yards. Genius move. Honestly though, Helen, I don't know how you did it, but you set the bar for for fantastic hangover attitude. Really. Not a moment of whining. Just the ocassional quick purge followed by, "Do you have a piece of gum...ooh...there's a nice skirt over there." Way to keep focused!
Venice Beach is a Velveeta as I remember it, but we made it to the Canals, which I missed last time. Very pretty and charming, again, probably better in pictures, but a lovely break from the commercial nightmare of endless stalls of cheap sunglasses and bikini print tshirts that is Venice Beach. Incongrously tranquil, really.
Helen had to be back at the hostel for a 2:00 ride to the airport, so I spent the afternoon doing the retail wander on the promenade. Some good stores, but pretty much Robson if Robson had the good stuff like Urban Outfitters and Anthropolige. Apparently there is no one in this zip code over a size 10, so I saved a lot of money by virtue of the fack that I am to Chunk for the good clothes. Jeesus. And even the shoes - which you really have to be orrca fat to not fit - were a bust. None of the 3 pairs I was eying online were in the stores, and what I did find was too cougar for me. I'm not quite there yet. Did get a cute pair of flats, but the Puma's and sandals I will be hunting online. As well as the Stella Sheer perfume which, in true jackass form, I didn't pick up when I waw it at the Santa Monica Sephora, where it is possible the last bottle in California. Der.
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