My parents bought a house in Malibu yesterday. I love you, New York, and Chicago, you aren't so bad, but any place in which the temperatures are currently upwards of seventy degrees is fine by me. Plus, doesn't James Franco live there when he's not busy being angsty in Manhattan? Perfect. Now I can follow him EVERYWHERE. Just kidding! Kind of.
But now what do I do? Do I have to brush my hair? Squeeze some lemon juice in it? Stop wearing black and grey? Don flip flops? Hug a tree? Actually, I think I can reconcile myself with all of these, so long as I get to see the birthplace of Snoog Dogg (in addition to James Franco sightings).
[photo cred, clockwise from left, to 1 via I Would Speak My Truth, 2, and 3]