when love comes to town: yesterday an In-N-Out truck pulled up next door to our office

everyone was abuzz in the office. even the vegans were all omg FRIES!

the truck pulled up next door to the soon-to-be new LAPD HQ, so all the construction workers were first in line

right across from the LAPD is City Hall and those peeps saw the commotion so they got in line:

even though all they were serving were burgers and sodas (no fries, sorry vegans) people were all, who cares? IN N OUT!

when the cashier said, this truck is here for charity people were all WHO CARES ITS IN N OUT – CHARGE ME DOUBLE! which they did.

because even standing in 100 degree heat, most people swear that this is the best burger in town, and worth the price, the heat, the everything and i gotta say that even though im a Fatburger guy, In n Out fresh and hot from the truck was mighty sweet

last week i was out of it, to say the least

that was manifested in losing my iphone, losing my work badge, and getting in fights with those who love me the most. but fortunately the black cloud has been lifted and we can return to our normal broadcast day.

however, theres one piece from last week that i loved but didnt get around to writing about, and thats dan neils review of the new camaro. ive never been that much of a fan of camaros, in fact cars dont interest me very much, but one great thing about getting the paper every day is reading dan neil who last week was funny as hell about fast food commercials, then busted with this sweet camaro review whose opening is just damn classic:

Despite some published reports, the 2010 Camaro SS is not really what you’d call a sports car, unless you tend to shave with a chain saw or sign your name with a piece of burning timber or make scrambled eggs by dropping a piano on a chicken. The consonant quality of this car, from the moment you turn the key to the moment you gratefully leave it in the chiropractor’s parking lot, is a wanton and cheerful disregard for finesse and delicacy.

This is exactly right.

You have to understand, after four decades in the market, the Camaro nameplate stands for something: 40-ounce beers, mullet hairdos, barbed-wire tattoos, that trick where you put cigarettes out on your tongue. If you ever stole cable TV from your neighbor, own more than two stuffed deer heads or have ever confused your girlfriend’s birth-control pills for Skittles, you might be a Camaro prospect.

Oh, please, don’t even start with accusations of cultural stereotyping. I’m from North Carolina. A telephone pole with a Camaro wrapped around it might as well be the state tree.

just as funny in person too.