Yesterday I was getting on the 405 after having Pakistani food with one of my former advisors when I heard this loud pop as if something large had hit the passenger's side of the car. About three miles later, I started hearing some weird noises from the rear of the car. I pulled over and found that I had my first ever blow-out. Luckily, I pulled over about six blocks from The Average Mulder's house, and after a quick phone call he immediately came and helped me change the tire. (Or more accurately, I helped him. A little.) The odds here are staggering--keep in mind that even Jules and Vincent only had one friend in the 818, so it was a bizarre and extremely fortunate coincidence that I was so close to help.

There's not much else to tell, except that I can attest that if you would ever want to have all of your built up notions about the glitz and glamour of Hollywood destroyed in one fell swoop, spend your Monday evening at the Pep Boys at Hollywood and Gower sometime. That'll do it.