San Diego was big and beautiful and with sunsets like this every evening why anyone lives anywhere else is beyond me. My friend moved from the Upper West Side of Manhattan to Ocean Beach and clearly she's figured out the secret to life. I'm a slow learner.

Everyone I met apologized about the weather because it rained the day I arrived, and according to my friend this sunset was sub-par because the clouds were rudely in the way.

The road to Palm Springs made me feel like we drove to Mars.

Since everyone on the east coast who has lived on the west coast says "Mexican food in NY is shit compared to California...blah blah" I needed a fish taco in my mouth before I flew home.

The next morning in NY I woke up writhing in stomach pain. The details of what violently followed in those 24 hours I will spare you but I will say that food poisoning made me question everything - my life, my purpose, my place in the universe.

As I laid in the fetal position naked (I was sweating so much I had to strip down) on my cold bathroom floor clutching an orange gatorade I thought: this is what it will feel like to die alone. I closed my eyes. I took deep breaths and waited. I stopped sweating and went to bed. I lived. What's the moral here?

San Diego is great. Beware of fish tacos. Hug your friends - early and often.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! MERRY CHRISTMAS!