leaving u for a smarter coast, bbn (be back never).
In all seriousness though, I guess if nothing else I can say the four years I've spent in your slow-driving, slow-talking, slow-thinking clusterfuck of useless shitbrains were worth it just because it brought me and Coachella together. Came out of it with a good lady on my arm but I don't think California should get credit for another state's poontang.
Living in Los Angeles was like a long-term relationship with a girl who has what appears to be nice tits with her clothes on and you're out partying, but really she had a boob job botched so badly that it looks like someone performed an emergency mastectomy on her with a pair of safety scissors. And every night you look at her shirt and think that maybe it'll be different tonight. Maybe tonight she'll take off her bra and they'll be real and normal and you'll finally get to suck and fondle them with pleasure.
But no matter how long you stay with her in the hopes that it'll change, Los Angeles will always shove wonky tits in your face at day's end. And it does it without a hint of shame or self-consciousness. Los Angeles could have a duo of Quato heads in its bra and it would act like there's something wrong with you for making a big deal out of it.
I'll be back for your Coachellas and EDCs. That is all.