How I met my untimely demise

Somewhere along the line, someone has likely sent you one of those emails with ghetto prom pictures and chola portraits in which the ladies' penciled-on eyebrows are surpassed only by their dark-lined pale lips. No doubt you've wondered, "Who are these people? Where do they get portraits like that?" Well, I'm here to tell you the answer to that second question is a little portrait studio in the Westlake area near MacArthur Park.

Criss and I were walking today and just past Langer's, Criss stopped me, saying "Hold up. Check out these pictures." We backed up and lo, the treasure trove of bad portraiture we discovered on the windows of this photo shop. Ghetto-fabulous prom photos, dance troupe shots, couples portraits, and my personal favorite, a young scantily-clad chola sprawled on a black velvet mount with "_____'s Property" tattooed on her prominently-displayed thigh (name omitted for safety sake). We stood there pointing at photos and chuckling until Criss said, "Oh my God, we're going to get stabbed." And that's when I realized what a bad idea it is to stand and make fun of other people's bad portraits when you're actually in their neighborhood and they could see you.

[please note the proper use of italics, unlike those stupid Dos Equis billboards]