Frankly, I have a hard time with parades.

It's all very Fascist if you ask me.   Saluting, waving, straight formations, neat corners.

Or if it's not Fascist, it's the kitsch.

The kitsch of it all.

Really, who gives a hoot about floats?

I mean, they roll down the street at a pace so slow I could grit your teeth to nubs.

Meanwhile, children thrust their sticky fingers in my hair.

They squeal at the floats.  Their parents have overfed them: sugar, sugar, corn syrup, more sugar.

All I wanted was to get to the Borders on Sunset and Vine

Because they've got a movie I've been Jonesing for, Two for the Road.

You know, with Albert Finney and the exquisite Audrey Hepburn.

It's not just that my new haircut makes me faintly recall Ms Hepburn.  Really, I look nothing like her at all.

It's just that there, in the movie, people say dear things and backpack around France.

They despise annoying little girls.

They throw their bodies into the sea.

And with such style!

That's all I wanted.

But there's a parade in Hollywood.

One I didn't account for.

So I cannot get to the Borders on Sunset and Vine.

Thus, I have a hard time with parades.