March Madness kicked off this past weekend with C’s and my trip to LA to celebrate her bday. The night before we left – Thursday night – we had an old school type gathering that involved Chuck E. Cheese and TGIFridays. It felt so much like high school – cruising around in our caravan of cars to strip mall-type places, that I was compelled to open the windows and yell, “SENIORS ’06!!! SPRING BREAK 06”
The following day, C informed me that our flight was due to leave 1 hr earlier than I had anticipated. Fuck. She picked me up at 4:30, we got caught in rush hour bridge traffic, leaving us literally 25 minutes to park, get our tickets, and go through security.
Yeah, we almost puked.
We ran like crazy – me dragging a rolling duffel over uneven gravel roads, and C lugging a large duffel on her shoulder. Our first inclination was to just say fuck it. 25 minutes to get our tickets AND get through security? On a friday? Fuck it. But then we decided we’d at least try.
It took us no more than 12 minutes to get through the airport and onto our plane. I have no idea how the hell we did that, but we somehow managed it.
We arrived in LA somewhat tired. It had been (another) exhausting week for me, so the idea of getting ready to go out partying did not really sound all that appealing. Still, we rallied. Had dinner at a taco place that supposedly the stars frequent (we only saw posers) and then went to this trendy hole-in-the wall dive called The Dime.
As we waited patiently out in the cold (yes, it was damn cold in LA this past weekend), we watched as this plastic blonde came up to the bouncer with her collogen filled lips (I nicknamed her trout lips) and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Angela, by the way.” The bouncer looked at her hand, insulted. I whispered to C and B, “god, at least be cute if you’re going ot flirt with someone, not have trout lips.”
Needless to say, it didn’t work. We got in, she didnt. Heh. Now what?
The Dime was pretty cool, pretty lax, and pretty much overrun with hipsters and wannabes. Thats all of LA though, so its not as if i were completely surprised. Lots of annoying people there, like the weird stripper girl who kept seat-dancing; waving her stripper arms in the air like a hippie-chick. Then there was her friend who looked like a tranny. And then, most delightful of all…guess who walked in????
MOANA AND SUSAN from the Bachelor. Aka #2 and #3. Even more strange was the fact that C, B, and I had just had a long discussion about the bachelor before going out. Mainaly, B told us that one of her friends had been emailing Moana, and that Moana had told him that she was still really upset about the whole thing. And then…BAM, we see her in the flesh and this little bar.
Not that they are celebrities or anything, but its still so strange to see someone in real life that you see on tv bc it skews all sense of reality. We ended up in Moana and friends area, where Im sure she caught us staring more than once. The LD: Moana is actually really pretty in person. Better than on film. And she actually seemed normal (no crying), if not a bit on the depressed side. She was also quite polite, unlike most peeps Ive met in Cali. I can say this bc she walked through our crowd a few times, always pausing to say “I’m sorry” as she passed through. We wanted to say, “No, its ok Moana, we’re sorry for you too. The bachelor is gay. Its okay.”
We also did something really bad and that was make fun of some of the ridiculous lines she said on tv. I think they must have edited to portray moana as unstable and overly dramatic because who would really say “He rocks me to the core” outside of tv? Well, except for us. We said it all night long. Couldnt help it.
As for Suaan, the 2nd runner up, she’s actually better on TV. Not much to say about her except that she and Moana are now friends. good for them.
After boozing it up and getting mind erasers (or, as i thought, mind racers), we went to Pink’s for hot dogs and chili fries. God, so scrumptious. And why can’t they have 24 hr places in SF like they do in LA?
Saturday – we were lazy as ever, which was good. We had brunch at Toast and froze our assess off eating outside. I guess I should mention that we hung out with B and her friends, who are all actor types. B lives with a girl who looks a lot like Jennifer Aniston (personally, I think she looks better than the real Jen Aniston, more real or something. Jen aniston is so makeuppy and has such a weird jaw line)- more in person than in pictures, but the resemblence is there. Its bizarre that theyve only been in LA for like 6 weeks (moved from Texas by way of NYC) and already they are so immersed in this acting/hollywood subculture. Its pretty interesting for outsiders like me and C.
Brunch took forever. They messed up our orders and we didnt realize it until after we ate it, thats how hungry we were. Still, it was a funny realization. It was only as we were getting ready to leave did they bring out the outside heater. Yeah, thanks.
Spent the rest of the day doing girly stuff like shopping and getting mani/pedis. Dinner was at a place called “Home.” Afterwards, we got the hookup at some new hotspot called “Privilege.” Yeah, some privilege. Jennifer Aniston lookalike worked the doorman, and he let us all in. This was just after we witnessed Tara Reid emerge from her limo, walk the red carpet up to the club, and wave/blow kisses to the people. Of course, we found this hilarious, and acted accordingly stuck up.
I gotta tell you, I didn’t feel very privileged when i was forced to check in my camera at the door for $5. Nor was I priveleged when I discovered that there was no coat check. Also not a privilege: getting pushed around on an overly crowded dance floor where girls were whoring themselves out to the B-list celebrities that lined the dance floor in the VIP section.
So who was there? Paris and Nicky Hilton and their boyfriends – the greek shipping heir that Paris stole from one of the Olsons, and that dude from Entourage – the guy who plays “E”. Also there: Tara Reid and her posse (as mentioned), some dude who was in an Ashley Simpson movie, Benjamin Mackenzie from the O.C., and best of all, Pauly fucking Shore.
I can’t begin to describe the scene bc it will be a disbelief to all who weren’t there. Basically the room was filled with hot people, but nobody noticed each other, bc they were all starfuckers — too busy trying to gain the attention of the celebrities surrounding the floor. All the sluttiest of the slutty girls came up to Benjamin’s bodyguards and basically offerred to suck dick to get onstage. Benjamin, on the other hand, was standing up near the DJ booth, surrounded by his entourage of nobodys, literally pointing out girls in the crowd like some Roman Emperor. The girls he picked would come up to security and sometimes they were let up, sometimes not. The ones that he did let up, he didnt want to have anything to do with, and ended up walking away, leaving the slutbags to his nobody friends. Sadly, I must admit that I was somewhat intrigued when he and his buddies stared down and me and C and pointed in our direction. We just kept dancing. It was just too pathetic and sad all around.
The Hiltons – for the most part, they seemed bored and engaged in conversation amongst each other, although Im not sure what they could be talking about. Every now and then, Paris would get up on the table and do the typical Paris dance, but that was about it. I’m pretty sure Paris wanted me though. WE had a moment where we locked eyes for a fucking long ass time. I didnt know why or what the purpose was, but I have to admit, I could not look away.
Tara Reid – actually looks better in person. She didnt talk to the Hiltons the whole night, but was dancing and drinking like the Tara we all love. Her friends were like Simple Plan or Good Charlotte rejects. Shrug. Who cares.
Pauly Shore – how did he get the VIP area? This one was a real gem. I was trying my damndest to not make eye contact bc he was trying hard to get any girl to notice him. Hells naw. Later that night, in the parking lot, while we were walking in front of the celebrity limos while the security guard yelled at us to move, Pauly said, “come on guys, make way…” We were like, “okay buuuuuuuhh-deee. I’m the WEE-zuhl.”
All in all I never ever want to go to a starfucked place like Privilege again. It was pointless to meet boys bc you were so intrigued by the B-listers. Nothing could compare. It was like once you saw what you could have w/in striking distance, even if it was far-fetched, you instinctively wanted that. I didnt pay much attention to anyone there. One girl wanted to get in a fight with me. And one nasty guy kept rubbing his belly up against C’s back. We called him Nasty McNasty, and he was seriously the nastiest person in the entire club.
Sunday – more of the same. We chilled. Went to a place called The Griddle, where we were promised a slew of hot boys. While wiating outside (in the cold) for about an hour for our table, a Johnny Knoxville poser dressed in tight capri-like jeans (man-pris), jean jacket w/a fur collar, and mandals (men + sandals = mandals) took a seat at one of the outside tables. He sat down before his name was even called, as if it were his god-given right.
There was an outdoor heat lamp near his table that wasnt working, and hadn’t been working throughout the entire time we stood there. Mandals tried to get it to work, but was told by the waitstaff that it was broken. Still, he proceeded, taking out his lighter and just flicking it on all around the propane tank. Um yah. Everyone w/in 10 feet moved the hell away from him, especially us. An older lady and man commented that it wasnt even how you light that thing. And we were making comments along the lines of, “i hope he knows what hes doing.”
Then, out of nowhere, Mandals turns to us and scowled, “FUCKING PUSSIES!” And yes, he was 100% serious. I started to laugh bc i thought he was joking. He wasn’t. Jennifer Anniston lookalike just stared at him in disbelief. B said, “did he really say what I think he said?” Yup. he called us all fuckin’ pussies. The older couple was just apalled.
Of course this really made me want to heckle him. Which I did until he gave up lighthing the damn thing and resigned himself to sitting in the cold. Oh, but he was not happy about that at all, not with his mandals. He sat for about 15 minutes, pouting, collar flipped up, scowl on face. His gf (I think she was more of a manager bc he seemed so disinterested and she seemed like such a pushover) kept trying to get him to talk to her, but he sat in his chair, hunched over, like a fucking baby who didnt get his way.
Finally, we noticed his gf handing him $20 from her pocket, and the Original Douche in Mandals disappeared inside. 2 minutes later, they were escorted to an indoor table, having bribed the host. Ironically, had he waited just a few minutes, he wouldn’t have had to tip anyone. As he left, we just laughed. Who’s the fucking pussy now?
Less than 5 minutes later, we were seated in a VIP room (no joke) with this velvet couche and weird curvy table. It was awesome bc it was in its own closed off room, w/a door that led into the hallway. WE could see pretty much everyone who walked by – every last envious person. And so, we acted like the fuckin’ pussies that we were – throwing napkins, wearing our sunglasses inside, pulling our hoodies over our head as if we were so “privileged.” Oh, so very privileged. When the Original Douche walked by we heckled some more.
Back to B and Jen’s apt where we all piled into a sleeper sofa and laughed through the movie, Center Stage. Then we got ready and went to this theatre production called UCB. That night was an improv troop called Assskat (I think) featuring Seth Morris (who coincidenntally, we saw driving in the car next to us the day before). It was funny stuff. And free. And we kept making eye contact w/all the creative poser types w/shaggy hair, too tight sweaters, converse and of course, black-rimmed glasses.
AFter, we tried out some divey places that looked really cool, but were really empty. We ended up at the Dresden Room (one of the bars in the movie, Swingers). I really liked the place, even if it was bright. And even if the only guys who hit on me the entire weekend were two 45 yr old men. Actually, htey didnt hit on me, they just kept staring to the point where I thought they were going to burn a hole in my head.
Of course, no night is complete w/out late night diner food at fred somethings – I want to say Fred 26, but I dont really remember. Food was good. Convo good. All around a good, chill night hanging w/the homies.
So no C2C-crazy stories about kissing C-list celebrities, but I had a really good time, nonetheless. Even if I’m a fucking pussy.
Fuckin Pussies ’06. (FP ’06). Por Vida.
