Las Super Chicas are slowing down, their seemingly limitless energy giving way to sleeping in and returning home early to see what movie Aunt Jenn can surprise them with next. We started our day late, with breakfast at my old haunt, Jinky’s in Santa Monica, where we met up with the notorious Lenatic and her outrageous cackle. After scarfing our brunch (“I can’t believe how much these two eat!” exclaimed a not-easily-impressed Lena), Las Super Chicas were introduced to Rocky McDoodle, Lena’s trusty red chow.
Next we headed across town to the La Brea Tar Pits (which translates, redundantly, as “The the tar tar pits”). The chicas couldn’t believe that there was still trouble brewing beneath the surface, as evidenced by the gurgling bubbles — and the stench. We watched the mammoth statues float on the tar, then headed over to the excavation pit, where workers painstakingly cleared fossil specimens one speck of dust at a time. Not exactly a dream job for any of us three ADD super chicas.
A quick drive in Eartha KITT (our beloved chariot) brought us back to Hollywood and Highland, where we parked and headed through the maddened crowd of muggles awaiting the arrival of the stars of the Harry Potter franchise. The younger Super Chicas had no interest in anything Potter, even though the eldest is, like, a huge fan and would have been thrilled to catch a real-life glimpse of any of the actors. Alas, she had to settle for watching the tops of their heads bob through the Hollywood Boulevard crowd before ducking into the El Capitan for the Ratatouille spectacle, where my friend Marilyn joined us. The pre-show consisted of the requisite organ-playing followed by several live dance numbers starring some of the most popular Disney characters. The film itself didn’t impress the younger chicas as much as the pre-show and the theater itself.
We had a few minutes to duck into stores for souvenirs, then, because we hadn’t eaten enough all day, we headed to the Valley to meet up with some of Jessica’s family and some of my friends. Along the way, we picked up my pal McK, whom the girls fell in love with due to their mutual tastes in music and television (Avril Lavigne, American Idol, etc.). Once at the Pomorodo in Sherman Oaks, we enjoyed a lovely meal with Jessica’s aunt, uncle, and cousins, as well as my surrogate family, Julie and Tyler. As McK watched the girls’ ramen dance and non-stop chatter, he turned to me and said, “You’ve survived five days of this?” His is a lifestyle that moves at a much slower pace than water slides and roller coasters.
After bidding farewell to blood and surrogate families alike, we traveled over the Hollywood Hills to return McK to his home, LSC entertaining from the backseat by regurgitating various pop-culture shows. They then asked the question that would seal McK, who knew the answer, as their favorite person of the whole trip. “Do you know where Paris Hilton lives?” LSC claim to hate Paris, but their unwavering fascination with her and their desire to spend money on merchandise with her likeness say otherwise. Now they insisted that their eagerness to see the Hilton homestead was because they wanted to toss eggs, which wasn’t about to happen on my watch. We did, however, drive by 1467 N. Kings Road, while the girls protested ever more loudly how much they despised the heiress. Yeah, okay.
After dropping McK home, we returned to Playa del Rey and I forced the girls to shower — no way were they waking me at 5:30AM with showers and hair dryers. While one cleaned up, the other, supposedly, packed, but there were still personal belongings strewn about the living room when we finally turned out the lights and the last of the giggles were suppressed.
Video: The Ramen Dance
Day 1: Las Super Chicas Invade LA
Day 2: Santa Monica and the Hollywood Bowl
Day 3: Raging Waters, Raging Chicas
Day 4: Disneyland and California Misadventure
Day 5: I Think They’re Turning Japanese
Day 6: El Capitan, La Brea Tar Pits, Friends and Family
Day 7: Sin Chicas, Silencio