Hey, we finally did something exciting on this trip again. Who’s livin’ de life?
Upon our arrival to Los Angeles, we almost immediately hit the streets to go to the (possible) home of the French dip sandwich, Phillipe the Original. Or maybe just Phillipe. Or Phillipe’s. Kind of unclear, but if you’re really worried about it, I’m sure a quick Google search will give you the absolute right answer.
Got our sandwich on, with each of us getting some sort of French dip and coming away thinking, “That was a good French dip sandwich but also still just a French dip sandwich.” If you’re really in to French dips — and/or taking pictures in phone booths — then this is for you. If not, skip it.
On our way home, we stopped for some sweets at a churro spot with a pretty great name.
These guys loved it.
Just a couple of Canadians getting their Mexican dulces on.
After that, we went in to chill mode for a bit. We all relaxed, I eventually met up with friend of the blog Jeff Weiss and then hit up a concert. Saw some Sheepdogs.
Saw some Black Joe Lewis.
Saw some Paul Shirley.
You know, just a normal night of hanging out with a former NBA player and the lead singer of a band that’s been on the cover of Rolling Stone. This ain’t no disco. Ain’t no country club either. This is LA.
Another off day today because we’re treating ourselves. Any suggestions are welcome. Love y’all.