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About Los Angeles

So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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Walking down Elm Street, you’ll catch sight of rundown murals and quirky little flower beds bursting like mini rebellions against morning drudgery. I swear, sometimes I can almost quote: "Your dwelling is a constant reminder of life's ephemeral beauty." But then I snap back to reality with a snarky grin. Seriously, who knew walls could talk, right?

There will be at least one contested Supervisor race in Albemarle this November