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See you in hell, Pacific Beach

March 26th, 2008 by Conor Lastowka · 18 Comments

I’ve spent my past few weekends participating in one of mankind’s darkest rituals. An exhausting, taxing marathon of an ordeal which sapped my soul of its strength and rendered my normal personality, (usually described as “bubbly”), into something more resembling John C McGinley in Point Break. At some point in time, I found myself behind the wheel of a 24 foot long diesel truck. I had no idea how I got there. Weeks later, things still aren’t back to normal. Accomplishing the smallest tasks takes much longer than it used to. I’m frequently disoriented. I’ve tried to order a sandwich at what turned out to be a wig shop twice (that I can remember.) Yes, in case you can’t tell, I’ve moved recently.

Typical Conor Reaction When Told You Can’t Get Deli Mustard On A Wig

When we first moved to San Diego, it was a no brainer for my girlfriend Lauren and I to pick a place to live: Pacific Beach. With an average of 17 restaurants/bars on every block, affordable rent, gorgeous weather and the almighty omnipresent BEACH, how could you go wrong?

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Our Apartment For The Past Three Years (Note Proximity To Beach)

PB has its detractors, namely the rest of San Diego. This is because if you wanted to find representative photos of the typical PB dweller, you could consult the Google Image search results for “dudes“, “douchebag“, or “girls gone wild“. I found myself defending the neighborhood over the course of my stay there, albeit with less and less fervor as time went by. I gradually came to realize that living in Pacific Beach is like dating a hot, crazy girl. It’s great at first. You get to trot her out in front of all your friends. They’re wowed at the beauty and luxury that you have managed to obtain. But when your friends go home, you are the one dealing with her psychosis on a daily basis. You’re the one that has to convince her that ripping out “that ho’s” hair extensions because she made eye contact with her from across the bar is not a good idea, just as in PB you’re the one dealing with some dude who calls you “bra” while he drunkenly explains to you why he’s simultaneously peeing and puking in your yard.

britney spears umbrella attack
Pacific Beach, When It Assumes The Form Of A “Human”

But for better or for worse, Pacific Beach was our home for four years. And for every time the girl across the street snorted an unidentified substance off her desk with her french doors open while we served my onlooking parents and extended family dinner on our patio, there were an equal number of days spent floating on waves or lying on the sand, knowing that life was good. So as we cleaned our house for the final time last Friday, I grew a bit sentimental. Our tiny apartment was the basis of many a great memory, and I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to leave them all behind. All the music we had listened to, all the meals shared with friends, all the fires we gathered around on the patio, all the spontaneous runs to Ralphs, would soon be left behind for the great unknown of our new house in North Park. As the clock struck 10 PM and a seven hour cleaning process was winding down, I stood on the dark, empty patio and wondered if we had made the right decision.

At that precise moment, an SUV drove by, going double the speed limit and a girl leaned out the window and without a hint of irony or self awareness shrieked out “WOOOOOOOOO SPRING BREAK!!!!”

Well, I thought. Time to go home.

Tags: RiffTrax · people conor will see in hell

18 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Onil on Mar 26, 2008 at 9:27 am

    Thanks to global warming, the Pacific Beach will soon be following you to your new home.

  • 2 Fortis on Mar 26, 2008 at 9:38 am

    That was poetic Conor…

  • 3 Olcas on Mar 26, 2008 at 9:51 am

    I live in Ireland.

    What is this ‘Georgeous Weather’ of which you speak?

  • 4 Neb on Mar 26, 2008 at 10:07 am

    “without a hint of irony or self awareness”

    Gads, that describes some of my neighbors and most of the goombahs I have to deal with at the Ren Faire every year. And before you ask, I do not *attend* “The Faire”, I’m in a horse show there, and when I’m not in the arena I’m lurking in my tent backstage. The outer darkness is too scary.

  • 5 Tv Miller on Mar 26, 2008 at 11:48 am

    Busey frequently produces or is enacting some sort of squat. I think the poor guy has been type casted as a squater.

    And ta’ hell with your Pacific bashing! I lived Pacific for most of my life and a year ago went Atlantic and now find myself aiding and abetting a David Lee Roth classic.

  • 6 R.A. Roth on Mar 26, 2008 at 2:55 pm

    People who live where the term “snow” is exclusive to illicit drugs resembling snow have no right to complain about ANYTHING.

    Case and point: on my way for a haircut yesterday, I turned into the back entrance to the SALON (yes, it’s one of those places) and came face to face with an unassailable MOUNTAIN of snow which had accumulated since my last visit, its great hoary pate wreathed in clouds both menacing and majestic. I contemplated attaching a Journey to the Center of the Earth auger to the front on my car and penetrating the giant at its base, but hastily rejected that option on account of my not owning one. Scaling was also out of question, as ascending the most modest face would require more rope than I had ever seen in my life, a Sherpa guide, a grant from a foundation plus oxygen tanks. That and it would have made me late for my appointment. So I turned back and drove to the front entrance, a wiser but sadder man for my ordeal.

    The moral of the story is people living in or running from PB can kiss my frosted rump.


  • 7 Nelly McDairy on Mar 26, 2008 at 6:17 pm

    Quote of the Day:

    “people living in or running from PB can kiss my frosted rump.”


  • 8 captian phil on Mar 26, 2008 at 8:04 pm

    move more north to the hemet area we have old people and thats about it

  • 9 Krunchy on Mar 27, 2008 at 10:24 am

    As a Massachusetts persons who has barely left this cultural and sports center of the universe (even your impressive recreation of the 1986 World Series touched upon this), I imagine that everyone in California lives about 10 blocks from each other, and yet all drive a Humvee to the Keanu Reeves Medicinal Marijauna Hut for their daily dose of “glaucoma relief”, hang out with Larry Dallas at the Regal Beagle, and have to be on the lookout for the 18 wheeler that takes 18 hours to deliver the volatile Tripolidene 13 miles to Turkey Central.

    OH, that and San Fransisco has more car chases down their hills than Godzilla has mutant lizard attacks.

    Damn you 70’s television !!!


  • 10 NJDevilsFan on Mar 28, 2008 at 2:52 pm

    Krunchy, how many times a day does someone ask you to say “Park your car in Harvard Yard”? If you think that’s annoying, we find the California stereotype even more annoying! Besides, we’re founded by Okies, transplanted military personel, and people who like warm and cold weather in the same town!

  • 11 Mike G in Corvallis on Mar 29, 2008 at 10:12 pm

    Oh Jeeze, I’m with ya. I lived in OB (PB’s tranquilized little sister) for a year when I was in grad school. There’s a time and a place for everything, but eventually you outgrow stuff like that. I moved from there to North Park, in fact.

    I got out of San Diego a couple of years ago. Too damn crowded, too damn noisy, and too much incivility. Hey, you damn kids! Get off my lawn!

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