It's going to be a very LA day

Only in LA is this a completely normal sighting.

"I'm still a man, I'm still a man, I'm still a man..."

At least once a day I see some comically enormous, completely emasculated man walking a "dog" (I only got a quick look, so this could have been a fat hamster on a leash) that he could literally crush in the palm of his angry ogre hand. And every single time I can't help but gleefully wonder what other Hollywood cliches he has relented to at the hands of his "aspiring actress" girlfriend.
I assume that when he leaves this convenience store he crams his giant body back into his Prius, or better yet, his Smart Car with the coexist bumper sticker on it, and heads back to his ridiculously undersized studio apartment in West Hollywood. After dropping off Dustin Hoffman (that's his chihuahua's name, obviously) and grabbing a quick sushi lunch at the corner cafe, he sits his tiny fedora atop his oversized skull and heads out to Venice Beach to spend the rest of the afternoon with his lady, who sells her homemade jewelry made of found scrap metal on the boardwalk.  All the while daydreaming fondly of simpler days gone by, when his one and only obligation was grinding bones to make his bread.