Well that one was my third - the first wasn't even in California. I was in a beach house on St. George Island on the Forgotten Coast of Florida, hung over as shit. I thought it was an aftershock of the copious amounts of booze from the night prior *zing* -- turns out it was a six point about 75 miles out in the gulf. We only felt a quiver for about 10 seconds.
The second one I was sober for: some weeknight last August, about 1 AM. I was standing at the toilet preparing to visit the greatest nation when all of a sudden everything started shaking. I managed to stay my visit until afterward, walk back to the bedroom to a startled wife and confused pair of dogs, and say "what?" I think it was like a 4, up in the valley.
Today's, wow. Completely different. I work halfway up a 14 story building built about 13 years ago. First it sounded like a six hundred pound ape running down the hallway upstairs, then the building shook and wobbled about 10 seconds, then little tickles of shakiness kept up for another 30 seconds. We were 30 miles away from the epicenter, no damage whatsoever. The missus lost power a mere dozen blocks away, and I was in mild enough shock to walk down the emergency exit and wolf down a smoke.
Moving to L.A. was the stupidest mistake I've ever made, and it's got barely anything to do with the quakes. Yeah, I love the weather but the people are almost as insane as the real estate prices. I can't wait for the next year to pass so that I can get back to Atlanta with all its humidity, mosquitos, sizable yards, barbecue, integration, and affordable homes. My friends are there. It's home. This ain't.
I mean four hundred dollars for a damn pair of jeans! come the fuck on, assholes.