Home

Granted, I've never lived in California, but I refuse to believe that all residential homes look like the Chi-Chi's in my hometown in Iowa.

Film after film I see these troubled people eeking out their miserable lives in these bleak, icky domiciles with tacky arches and wrought iron scrolling, and I think to myself -- are they just worried that a waitress with a giant sombrero is going to come around the corner and sing Happy Birthday to them in Spanish?