As many of you know, for the last 16 months I’ve managed to exist in Los Angeles without owning an automobile. For the most part I’ve tolerated this major inconvenience with nary a complaint. Pedaling my one-speed bike over vast expanses of steaming asphalt. Forced to stand on the train for lack of seats. Shivering alone in silence as I wait at bus stops in the pouring rain.

The unfortunate incident over the weekend was only the latest setback in a year-and-a-half battle to survive without a car in LA. Little did I know, just as I thought I was doing good, I was actually harming my fellow citizens.

My eyes were opened after reading about the negative experiences some of Curbed LA’s commenters have had with bikers on the road. Someone named ‘guest’ had a great point. “Biker bashing? sign me up. I can’t stand the ones that run stop signs.” Another person mentioned bikers “bizarrely turning left from the left turn lane, taking up whole lanes of traffic (for just one slow moving cyclist not trying to sweat too hard on the way to work).” Sounds awful.

But the most poignant comment was by ‘guest’: “Cyclists need to be taunted. Anything to give them an incentive to use a more grown-up and less self-righteous means of transportation helps.”

I can’t believe I was so selfish to never stop and consider that I could actually be ruining other people’s lives by not having a car, but it’s true. I’ve never felt so immature and self-righteous in my life! Also, it’s totally wrecking my shoes.

So this morning I went over to Toyota of Hollywood to buy a Prius. But they were all out, so I tried to get the next most fuel-efficient car, the Yaris. But I really didn’t like the color they had; I had a blue car when I was a teenager, okay? The Camry wasn’t really for me. I thought the Matrix was cool until I test-drove it and it handled like a golf cart with one flat tire. Wasn’t feeling the Corolla. The Avalon? What am I, 40? So I settled on a silver 2008 Toyota 4Runner. With the fold-down third-row bench, it can seat seven, so the way I see it, that’s six people I can keep from riding bikes every time I drive it.

I know some of you out there might be a little surprised at my decision. But deep in my heart, I know this is the right choice for my fellow commuters, and, more importantly, for myself.

Update: I feel like I have to add something to this story since so many people have emailed me (some of them congratulating me, which is bizarre), but I am pretty sure that if I ever decided to buy a car it certainly wouldn’t be an SUV purchased on April Fool’s Day.

Easter is the perfect convergence of many of my obsessions. A short list: pastels, spring, lilacs, sundresses, brunch (meaning drinking before noon is socially-acceptable), renewal (needed after a long day of drinking), and, of course, Peeps®. I spent last week scouring my local drugstores, stocking up on the top-selling non-chocolate Easter candy. But not to eat, mind you. To craft.

True, Peeps® possess inherent physical qualities that just scream for a gastronomic improvisation every true fan has got to try at least once. (Yes, it works: Roast Peeps® over a medium flame—the sugar caramelizes on the outside for a nice crust, but don’t overdo it or you’ll end up with a black hunk the consistency of plastic—place between two vanilla wafers for the ultimate spring s’more.) When it comes to their anthropomorphic fluff, their marshmallowy versatility, however, I’m more inclined to put Peeps® in a flower arrangement than in my mouth. This year, I bought 200. I ate two.

Peeps® have superseded their sugar-coated status to become a hot grassroots creative medium. A plethora of Peep® diorama contests in the last few years has surfaced too many Peep® pop culture references to consume (my favorite: Reservoir Peeps® with a brilliant casting of Mr. Pink). Artist David Ottogalli has been putting on his Peeps Show for over a decade, and Peep Research has been studying the effect on smoking and alcohol on Peeps® for years. My friend Ashley sent me a post from Hostess with the Mostess that points to Real Simple getting in the game. See? Peeps® are good for you.

Now craft projects can even be found on the official Peeps® site, and this year Chronicle Books and Urban Outfitters are sponsoring the Peeps® on Film contest to promote the new book Peeps: Recipes and Crafts to Make with Your Favorite Marshmallow Treat. Deadline is April 30, so there’s still plenty of time to sweep the clearance aisles of their half-off Peeps® and get shooting. Here are some ideas to get you started, created by me and my Peeps® during Easter brunch:

1. Arlo’s Chick Magnets
2. Playboy Bunnies
3. Chick de Soleil
4. Peeps® in a Blanket
5. Rabbit Slug
6. Bottlecap Holder
7. Decorative Punchbowl Garnish
8. Peep®-sicle Ice Cubes (good with punch)
9. Drink Bunny (to easily identify your glass of punch)
10. Really Bad Star Wars Characters, which would have been better if it wasn’t for…the punch.

More Peep® (and punch) photos right this way!

It was difficult to tell exactly when I arrived at the Echo Park Time Travel Mart. Even more disturbing was trying to remember when I had come from. I always do that, forget when I just was. Then I get anxious about when I’m going next. Or then there’s the possibility of running into my future self, as I have a tendency to do. At any rate, the employees were kind, the store well-lit, and I felt comfortable, as if I’d visited before. Perhaps I was there tomorrow.

This gash in the time-space continuum, I soon (or long ago) learned, is the latest brilliant front to the new 826LA drop-in tutoring center. Ever since the first pirate supply store opened in SF, 826 chapters nationwide have adhered to founder Dave Eggers’ whimsical vision for creating themed retail experiences with obsessive (and sometimes disturbing) vigor. I alluded to LA’s concept in the past, in an article I wrote for Wired about the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. (that’s 826NYC), with products designed by my friend Sam Potts. Little did I know when I wrote that article that my other friend Stefan Bucher would be designing all the products for this one (but I really should have traveled back to now to learn that). Oddly enough, a few people who were at the Time Travel Mart Saturday for the launch party of Stefan’s new book 100 Days of Monsters, another chapter in his incredible Daily Monster project, didn’t know that he was behind all the products either. They just thought it was a nice bit of monster-time travel synergy. Which, if you think about it, does make a lot of sense.

After getting my copy of Monsters signed by Stefan—who was kindly drawing very nice personal notes for everyone—I perused the shelves of the extremely convincing Time Travel Mart. Of course I could have thrown down for some Robot Milk or Barbarian Repellent (I believe they only accept gold bullion as currency) but I was particularly captivated by this Ricky Martin lunchbox, a must for anyone traveling back to that one week in 2000 when it was actually cool to carry a Ricky Martin lunchbox.

Also being transported was Time Travel Mart architect R. Scott Mitchell, who was talking to Jenna Didier and Oliver Hess from the m-azing M&A. I also saw design scenesters Terry Stone and Michele Moore, Knock Knock’s Jen Bilik, and Vesna Petrovic from Picnic Design who’s curating and designing the upcoming show Everyday Design at MODAA. Vesna’s business partner Marci Boudreau wasn’t there because she was at the opening for her own show at Little Bird Gallery in Atwater, so I’d say that Picnic is having a very good month!

I can’t say the same about another guest at the party. The monster Stefan invited was a real ham and ended up jumping in photos with everyone. He was also letting people shape-shift his facial features which freaked me out a little bit until I got the hang of it. Of course I thought I was being all creative until I saw him posing with other people and having, like, six eyes and his teeth on his forehead and stuff. I think I scared him more than he scared me.