"Ordinary lasers are only good for pointing."

I was driving to Burbank last night to meet a friend at The Blue Room. We were supposed to meet at Good Luck Bar, but I never get my way these days. Somewhere en route, I saw an older fellow crossing the street with a dog on a leash. The man was wearing a coat and hat that made him look exactly like Paddington Bear, only as a full-grown man. I wondered if he was homeless. And I further wondered if homeless people who have dogs have to work that much harder to look after their canine pals. Truth be told, I also wondered if he might speak with a sweet British accent and have a note tacked to his coat with travel instructions on it. But mostly I thought about the homeless topic. The other night at Canter's, a minimally-toothed homeless woman asked me if I would buy her some soup. I decided to be generous and asked her what kind she wanted. She wanted Vegetable Beef. It cost me nearly five dollars and was -- I'm assuming -- great. But when they handed it to her over the deli counter, she took it, turned, and left without so much as a nod of thanks. I passed her the other night again, and I decided that if she asks me for a handout again, I'll treat it like those diabetes sneakers that you buy at Marshall's and other similar stores. You know the little paper cutouts that you write your name on so they can stick it up on the store window with Scotch tape and show everyone how generous you are. When they're doing their fundraising drive, they ask you when you check out if you'd like to donate a dollar to diabetes research. And the only smooth way to avoid having to give is to lie and say that you already did. I'm not saying I don't support diabetes research. I just don't like being pressured into giving to good causes when I'm trying to spend my money selfishly on me. So if that homeless chick hits me up again, I'll just tell her I already gave. I'm curious how that might go over.

It was apparently too crowded at The Blue Room. We ended up at Razzberries. I haven't been there since May of last year when Tom took me there for a drink sometime around my birthday. I got a lot of mileage out of that birthday. I hope that will be repeated this year. If only because I'm very, very greedy.

Getting there was no small feat. I had directions printed out that required me to take the Alameda exit off the 5. But the Alameda exit was inaccessible. And when I exited at Olive and then got back on the 5 South, I found that the Alameda exit was blocked there, too. It was only through happenstance and a certain amount of canny navigation that I ended up on San Fernando from the 134 and didn't doubt myself so early that I turned around before getting to my destination. I almost did. I almost pulled over and turned around, when I realized I was sitting at a light on the other side of which was a big neon sign that said "The Blue Room." But I have plenty of traveling tales in which I wondered if I'd gone too far or in the wrong compass direction and gave up and turned around just before I should have. I have far too many such stories.

I would like to go on a serious road trip. I am speaking quite literally.