Wednesday started off with drinks at The Chalet with Loren and Joanne. The interior of this Eagle Rock dive bar is supposed to resemble an actual Swiss chalet, but I think the only thing that's distinctly Swiss chalet about it is that everybody's white. I had a Diet Coke with grenadine and four maraschino cherries while Loren and Joanne started getting drunk on Manhattans, even though I think they were already drunk—I mean, why the hell else would we be at The Chalet?
Next, it was dinner at Casa Bianca, which is known as perhaps the best pizza place in Southern California. Loren and Joanne started getting drunk on red wine, even though I think they were already drunk—I mean, why the hell else would we order a large pizza and garlic bread and antipasto, which is enough food to cater a Filipino family reunion?
On our way back to the car, we passed by a strip mall and noticed a sign above a storefront that read: "Planned Parenthood Express." I don't know who the geniuses at Planned Parenthood were who thought it was a good idea to name some of their locations "Planned Parenthood Express," but you just don't do that! When I see the words "Planned Parenthood Express," I think "drive-thru abortions" or "girls on fast-moving conveyor belts" or "dwarves with plungers." I know that's not what they mean, but Planned Parenthood should not take their cues from Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. I'm just sayin'.