
We Scanner folk may have 24-hour food delivery and Babes in Toyland, but vending machine marijuana is enough for L.A. to usurp all of NYC's best traits.
Unfortunately, you can't just fly out there and wait in line with a couple thousand-dollar bills at a RiteAid on Wilshire Boulevard. You're gonna get a doctor's note (forged), California residency (doctored), and a laundry list of items to pick up for my next eight birthday parties. Dude! They even have Grandaddy Purple, which is like taking LSD and going to a Right-to-Life Party rally-- your mind wants to explode, you vomit and cry with happiness, but you cannot move because Ted Haggard is rubbing your leg.
Drool here.