At the height of the O.J. Simpson trial back in (what year was it anyway?), we drove to L.A. and met my brother and his family while they vacationed there. We ended up going to lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe (that sounds so pathetic now) and then we had an afternoon of southern California sight seeing.
For some reason we ended up in Bel Air and drove by O.J.'s house. The mob scene included several press vans posted at the curb as well as many tourists walking thru the neighborhood. We didn't bother to get out of the car, we just cruised by gawking at the house (I'm not sure what we thought we'd see.)
At the moment we drove by the house a group of local young women drove by in their convertible and yelled at us "GET A LIFE." We paused for a moment and then our car erupted in laughter. We still joke about running a company called Get A Life Tours.
I remembered this story the other night when I found myself with time on my hands. I spent 45 minutes on the www.awfulplasticsurgery.com web site, looking at bad boob jobs.
Obviously I need a hobby.
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