Thanks for stopping by...now go the fuck home

Dear Greater Los Angeles (and surrounding areas),

We here in the beautiful, City by The Bay greatly appreciate that you took the time from your busy spa days and long, drawn out lunches where you find it common practice to humiliate the waitstaff at the hottest, new one-word restaurant (what is it now: Chive, Slab, Heal?) to stop on by and visit us little people in Northern California. Seriously, though...no one cares that your ordered $95 worth of a side salad and you ended up drinking your lunch out of a martini glass and then excusing yourself to the restroom because you accidentally looked directly at the salad and had to purge because the thought of it made you fat; stop telling us how things where you're from.

We can appreciate the fact that it might be a bummer to not know what the color, "blue," actually looks like because you can't see the sky, but don't subject us to you attitude just because your pissed at yourself for driving everywhere and helping to add to that 24/7 haze that is causing infant-emphysema and adult-onset-asthma.

We're not quite sure what it is exactly that irks us about you So-Cal peeps...maybe it's the fact that you shorten words that are not meant to be shortened, i.e. Nordy's, Nieman's or Frisco (don't EVER call it that...we don't call Los Angeles, "Anges").

It's unfortunate that we can't just get along...darnit, we share the same floundering state budget for Godsake, but your continuous uppity attitude and faux --well-- everything is really putting a strain on our relationship. I'm sorry, Greater Los Angeles, I don't think that this is going to work out any longer.

We appreciate the time that you spent berating our Northern California service-staff and purging in our toilets so that you could keep up that emaciated glow you have grown so attached to, but please don't come back. We apologize for the lengthy correspondence, but let's be realistic there's so much to say and so little collective brain power left in Greater Los Angeles due to the braincell depleting combination of peroxide, SMOG and (breast/chest/calf/ ass) implants.

In short, we're sorry to break this off so abruptly but we have to ask: please stop trying to get into our Golden Gate and we'll stop looking at your Hollywood.

Seriously yours,

San Francisco

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NEXT TIME: Boston! The city that thinks it's San Francisco.