Venice Beach and the sceptre of love (24 September)

The journey went on to Venice beach. For you Londoners - Its pretty much like a sunnier, musclier Camden.
 For you Norways - This is like what your mum told you hell looks like. And if you don't behave she'll send you there.

A rastaman with an electric guitar whizzed past on rollerblades, an oily man carrying a sceptre of love or something, was pursuing(using rude gestures made with the mentioned Sceptre of love)
an embarrassed looking German mum with her family.
Walking along we came upon a man sitting amongst paints and canvases.

He had a really cute and minuscule dog that was eating paint. He also told me - "Hey lady, don't take photos of my art. I work real hard at them and I don't want people to steal my ideas."

I'm sorry, but I'm gonna show a photo here anyway because I like them. And I don't think anyone of you fine people could find it in your hearts to steal these ideas.

(Im sorry, crazy paint man, if you read this and think I'm taking advantage. Maybe I am, a little, but I hope you can see the positive side of it, the free advertising which might lead to a possible sale in future, or my compliments might warm your blackened soul or something. Besides, I think you're on to something there, I really do. I mean, Buddhism is about being peaceful, right? and you're turning it around and being ironic by painting a green creepy alien saying "F** off, I'm a Buddhist." I get it. I really do. But see, crazy paint man, the bottom line, is that you have to let go of that anger. Because somewhere, inside, the fuel for you gutsy artwork is eating you up alive. Please don't take it the wrong way crazy paint man. Cause we're all just lost souls on the battlefield that is earth and I love you man.

 

Enticing fruits at the Paycheck-and-a-half

So far our biggest flexing of the credit card muscle has been at 'Wholefoods market'.
A natural and organic food hall, it lures you in with its dewy fresh little mountains of fruit and veg.
All colours, shapes and sizes. Green, yellow, red and purple as far as the eye can see.. And its all being regularly sprayed with a cheeky little shower of water, to ensure it all looks its best at all hours of the day. Sigh.

We started out on our shopping a little bit apprehensive. So, what shop back home is this the equivalent to? The epitome of the skeptical English shopper.  
("Isn't that a little bit much for strawberries? I could get Tesco's own for half that price!")
 But it was too late.
I think I lost it first by the tomatoes. They were just so brightly coloured, so alive!
I started babbling. "I know they're a bit more expensive than normal, but they ARE organic, and they smell so REAL! Smell them! This is what REAL fruit smells like!!  I want them IN AND AROUND MY MOUTH, NOW."
Then things quickly escalated. We started humming along to the music being played, I recall skipping a little next to the shopping trolley. A lady knocking over a whole container of brown rice broke the spell momentarily. Surely we would witness a hissy fit from either her, a shopkeeper, or a p'd off costumer who wanted that brown rice? She smiled. And then she said "Ops". A young girl who happened to be next to her let out a little giggle, and said " Here, I'll help you with that!"
(You ever noticed how people quickly scatter if you drop or break anything in a shop? Like mammals avoiding the one sickly and pathetic individual in the pack-Uhoh, momma's gonna kiiill you)
Not so here. They flock to help you. A shop assistant strolled over and said "Hiya! Don't you worry about it ladies, I'll take it from here! You all have a nice day now!" (I might have altered his accent a little, I blame the spell of the fruit)

We left the store feeling a little confused and embarrassed.
With a quivering credit card in our pockets, we stocked up the car. I looked at Jon, and we both knew.
This was a Guilty Pleasure. Without the std's. Or pesticide. And we could never come back.
That would be like paying to go to Disneyworld twice. And who does that?