It’s where wearing workout clothes can be almost as good as working out.

It’s where it’s not entirely impossible that Prince could show up on your doorstep one day to share the teachings of the Jehovah’s Witnesses with you... and afterwards, relaxing in your small living room, perform an acoustic version of "Purple Rain" just for you because he believes that you have the potential to live "in the truth" -- you will not correct him on this point; you will keep your mouth shut and let him play.

It’s the balls out redundancy of the "Culver City City Hall" sign.

It’s neighbors who dress like strippers.

It's:

It’s the madman sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean snarling to one of the many voices inside of his head. “I didn’t say I killed her, I said I had her killed. And if you don’t shut up I’ll have you killed, too.”

It’s the beer-bellied baby boomer kayaking around the harbor with his first mate – a life-jacket wearing toy poodle.

It’s the kid putting a piece of pizza on the train tracks, then examining the remains after the Metrolink speeds by.

It’s the bikini-wearing dog walker who kind of makes you wonder: where does she put the poop bags?

It's the older, shirtless, bronzed surfer dude lookin' like he's seen one too many tequila sunrises.

It's:

And we're back...

It’s a girl who will only date a guy if she met him in a meet-cute.

It's So Wisco: It's when the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile crashes into someone's house.

It's So Wisco: It's the best farmer's market in the whole wide world.

It's So Wisco: It's local newscasters (both men and women) with beer bellies.

It's So Wisco: It's the guy with a tattoo of the Green Bay Packers logo on his bicep.

It's So Wisco: It's the hippies who look like Amish people.

Special report from Wisconsin, It's So Wisco:
It's the guy parked on the shore of Lake Wingra with his radio on, singing along to "Born in the USA."

It’s when good driving is a turn-on.

It’s the lost dimension of space-time that is every So Cal freeway between the hours of three in the afternoon and seven in the evening.

It’s the almost daily fight-or-flight response upon hearing about a peer’s somewhat arbitrary Hollywood success – or Hollywood failure – story.

It's:

It’s wearing white linen pants any time of the year.

It’s the sunset colors of the bouganvilla.

From my sister:
It’s Pink Dot.

It’s the medical marijuana Doctors’ offices on the boardwalk at Venice Beach with the barkers outside promising, “The Doctor is in.”