and so last night, michelle and i hung out in our neighborhood. we walked in flip-flops and light sweaters (which seems to me to be the perfect summer night attire 'round here, let your toes feel the cool breeze but cover your arms because you don't want to shiver) to the promenade where we sat at a table on the sidewalk and clanked corona bottles, scarfed down some fish and chips and salad, and then wandered around, eyeing cute shoes and the street performers.

our favorites: little drummer boy beating on buckets and pots and pans, followed by an asian girl in costume playing a heavenly harplike instrument, closely followed by the psychic cat who wears a turbin. a consolation prize for the wrinkly asian man who mumbles and murmurs his tunes in a thick accent, and, of course, the guy who sounds so much like james taylor it's unnerving.

afterward, we went up the street to rent a movie at the small, run-down 20/20 video store. "what kind of person goes to 20/20?" rich had asked the night before. apparently, only old men renting porn -- and two 20-something girls who are too lazy to walk the extra few blocks to blockbuster video. actually, i'd been in there once before, looking for reality bites (i don't care what you say, i really like -- okay, love -- that movie), but they didn't have it, or i was too scared to look for too long, because every time i thought i was approaching the comedy section, i'd realize it was porn. and, i was too scared to ask, because the guys behind the counter were so high fidelity, i could just hear them yelling at me for my appalling taste in film and insulting their establishment.

so we walked inside, and my suspicions were dead on: behind the counter was a scrawny man in his 60s with a crooked smile and a stocky kid with greasy blond hair that flopped in his eyes every so often, both of whom you know had to have been working there for years and years. we went straight to the new releases, picked out our video (notting hill, if you must know, a definite chick flick, and we were just in the mood) and walked up to the counter. the two were fascinating to watch: the goofy old guy and the young and bitter wiseass, who veils all of his insult (especially at the old man he's just tired of spending yet another friday night with) with a chuckle.

michelle had to sign up for membership, a process that took way too long because grandpa was trying so desperately to be charming. "i know i look like i'm old enough to be the owner, but i'm really not," he said, with a laugh, and then proceeded to share with us the best of his "i'm so old that" jokes that he's shared with customers who apparently were not as amused or willing to sit and listen as we were.

she and i took turns responding. "oh! haha, that's a good one!"

i just don't think anyone else goes in that store, especially not two young girls, because i swear, that old man did not want us to leave. he told us every little detail he could about the video store and the return policy, and something about his hometown, and a story about jesse ventura, because that's the video that was playing at the time. and when we finally walked out the door, he walked with us to show us the drop slot, you know, just in case we had never seen a drop slot before and would not know where on earth to bring back the movie if it was closed.

god, i love our neighborhood.