Today is my last day of Thirty Day LA, so I thought I'd go out in style.
I just bought two tickets to the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert tonight with Mars Volta. It's at the Forum in Inglewood at 7:30PM. If you have a burning passion for the Chili Peppers, hit me up and I'll hook you up!
On Monday night, after my first photo 2 class of the semester at SMC, I went with ObligatedGirl on a tour of Third Street in West Hollywood near Beverly Center or whatever neighborhood it is and then Third Street in Santa Monica.
West Hollywood 3rd Street
Went to The 3rd Spot, had a Leffe Blonde and a Fat Tire, ate some food, people watched a huge party of hipster-looking industry people. I sat at the table next to the sexiest woman ever, Leanne Tweeden, and her ordinary-looking male companion. Personally I think Leanne Tweeden is the number one most stunningly hot female celebrity (in a distant second comes Kate Beckinsale), but I didn't want to act like a horny teenager with her FHM spread in hand, so I played it cool. She only saw me looking at her twice. She's just as gorgeous in person as in pictures, with great style and a beautiful smile. I spotted this other slightly older but very attractive woman the moment I stepped in the place and made eyes at her the whole time I was there. Everytime I looked over, I saw her look back, and she even walked by me with her chest one foot away from my face. But for some reason I still didn’t bother to talk to her. For the food, the good selection of beer, and the amazing eye candy, I give this place my highest endorsement of ten inches up.
Santa Monica 3rd Street
Brittania Pub, Harvelle’s again, Yankee Doodles. Nothing too interesting happened there except that the dude at Yankee Doodles hooked us up with two free games of pool.
Then capped off the night at Norm’s where we had chicken tenders. I asked for BBQ sauce and the server announced with pride that they had the worst BBQ sauce known to mankind and had to ask me twice if I was sure I wanted to try it. I was warned, but I still wanted it, so he gave it to me and waited for my reaction. If ketchup had an asshole, ate rotten vegetables and took a dump, that’s what the BBQ sauce would taste like. We shared jokes with the server about how bad it was but I still used half of it.
So there it is, on a tour of Third Street I had my first celebrity sighting of Thirty Day LA, and it was a doozy of a floozy. Time to go take a cold shower.
This past weekend, I didn’t have any exciting events planned for myself. I’ve been drinking too much and spending too much money, so I thought I’d get back to the basics: get some sun, exercise, and relax.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
I took a bike tour of Santa Monica with StimpPimp. We met up at the cusp of Brentwood, at Federal and Wilshire, and rode four miles on San Vicente to The Steps on Channel Road in Santa Monica. The Steps are two sets of stairs, one wooden and one concrete, that connect the lower part of Channel Road to the higher part of Adelaide Drive in an expensive neighborhood of Santa Monica. Usually the Steps are packed with middle-aged people getting into shape and young people in phenomenal shape. I went once at 6:30AM on a weekday and it wasn’t as crowded as it usually was on the weekends. We ran up the wooden ones and walked down the concrete ones. StimpPimp counted 84 steps on the top half of the wooden steps. The hardest part was to keep running while trying to pass the walkers. The Steps are very narrow and sometimes there’s a bottleneck of people who are trying to pass the walkers either on the way up or the way down. We endured four rounds before we succumbed to the desire to rest our burning legs and lungs. Later we grabbed lunch at Panera Bread. We both got the Frontega Chicken Panini which was kind of greasy and unhealthy considering we had just worked out, but it was irresistibly delicious. Then we went our separate ways to our respective apartments.
Later that night I drove around looking for a late night spot to chill at, found nothing, and ended up going to the donut store across the street from my apartment and hung out there with my laptop until 3:30AM. Another place that I’ve driven by countless times but had never gone in before. I hope to exhaust every donut shop, coffee shop, sandwich shop, bakery, bar, and restaurant in my neighborhood of West LA by the time I’m eighty.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
GuitarHero, StimpPimp and I went to the Rock the Beach event in Venice Beach. We didn’t pick up trash like those treehugging volunteers did, we were just there for the music. First up was Johnny Lang, a blues rocker who looks surprisingly young and made ugly John Mayer faces the whole time. StimpPimp enjoyed the Lang but GuitarHero thought his stuff was too simple and repetitive. I had no opinion because I am musically uneducated. Next up was the real reason why we were there, Jurassic 5. Once they hit the stage, the crowd suddenly became twice as packed. They played a bunch of their old school songs and were awesome like usual. Akil said Motherfuck George Bush to a chorus of cheers while a little ten year old boy was dancing his ass off on stage. Chali 2na is a hugely charismatic stage performer. I guess it helps that he’s like 6 foot 5. After the show we went boogie boarding. I tried to body surf for a while too but didn’t fare that well. When walking to the car through the shop areas and the small Venice streets, I had my shirt off, which is something I never do. I have a very pronounced farmer's tan, making me ridiculously sexy when my nipples are exposed, and thus I am not a big fan of self-nudity. But no one cared, except for the dog that tried to bite my feet thinking that I had socks on.
At night, when I realized the weekend was over already, I was disappointed. I said “Motherfucker!” and went to bed, thinking about the upcoming completion of Thirty Day LA.
As my thirty days are winding down, I find myself unable to determine if the project was a success. Most of my entries were about the things I did and the people I saw. I wish I had spent more time processing my thoughts and feelings on the experiences I had. Even though I did technically succeed in doing something new everyday, I spent more time going to new places instead of having completely new experiences. I could have gone to yoga class, spent a day talking out of my ass to everyone I saw instead of being mostly quiet, or saw a therapist. You know, the quintessential LA experience. I still have a list of things that I don’t think I’ll get to by the end of this week, but I will make sure to accomplish them in the next month. And I also have a big list of things I know I’ll be doing again throughout the rest of my life.
My biggest question is if I’ve gotten what I wanted out of Thirty Day LA. I definitely have expanded my breadth of experiences. If anyone ever asks me what to do on any given night, I’ll have plenty of ideas to offer instead of saying "I dunno." I have gotten to know my own neighborhood of the Westside much better, and even ventured to areas as far east as Pasadena. It’s a good beginning to exploring the vastness of LA. However, I haven’t grown out of my comfort zone as much as I've wanted to. Due to lack of planning or creativity, I didn’t do many things that would place me in unknown territory. I never felt the thrill of surrendering myself to my surroundings. For the most part, I insulated myself in my little bubble. Maybe it’s something I’ve built up over the years as a necessity to surviving in LA, but I didn’t get to get out of it as much I wanted to.
I need to focus on stepping out of the boundaries I created for myself when this week ends. It’s what I’ve always needed to do. I’ll use these past few weeks as a starting point for me to move beyond the stagnancy that has consumed my life for the past few years. I will make sure all I’ve experienced this month will not go to waste. One thing I’m just starting to realize is that there are so many opportunities that come my way everyday. At any moment I could meet a new friend, help someone in need, or make my own life better. I’ve been so consumed with my own thoughts of worry and fear that I never had the presence of mind to seize those opportunities. It always seemed so hard to do. I know now that all it takes is a little courage.
There will be failures and disappointments, but I won’t let them bog me down anymore. Just gotta keep hustling. If I do, only then will I know if Thirty Day LA was successful.
Harvelle’s and the Blues
On Wednesday, I went with GuitarHero to Harvelle’s in Santa Monica. The place was extremely loud and extremely dark. The band playing was Ass-Pocket-Of-Whiskey. GuitarHero spotted the influences of the two lead guitarists/singers: the white guy was the controlled smoothness of Stevie Ray Vaughan, the black guy was funky wildness of Jimi Hendrix. Their soloing was quite impressive and varied. They made it look so easy, but I knew if I went home and tried it, my solos would sound like a squealing monkey. While watching a bunch of tiny white girls dance with their boyfriends in the front, I noticed the cute waitress and how she had the speed-walking thing down, handling the entire room with ease. We didn’t even ask for it, but she gave us each a plate of sausage and waffles. Apparently the food comes with the $6 cover, but it was cool nonetheless. We also ordered the $5 swamp juice: pineapple, cranberry, blue cacao, and Parrot Bay. Very sweet but pretty strong as well. I got slightly buzzed on swamp juice and talked to the waitress, who said that the best night to go there is Sunday. She only works on Wednesdays and Saturdays though. Guess one of these days I’ll have to spend an entire weekend at Harvelle’s.
Griffith Park Night Hike
On Thursday, I drove an hour and a half through LA traffic for the Griffith park night hike. It’s a free hike sponsored by the Sierra Club held every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at 7PM sharp. I got there late and missed the announcement that if you are a first-timer at the Griffith Park night hikes to go on nothing higher than a level 3 hike. There was a big group of about 200 people who broke off into smaller groups for their respective hikes. I followed a group of people and asked a guy what level hike they were on, and he wasn’t sure. Then he said found out it was level 4 and he didn’t want to go with them because they stopped too much. So he started running uphill, and I thought, all right, might as well run too. We barged up the trail past all the level 4 hikers, a couple of whom yelled at us to stop running. Undeterred, we ran past the group and just ahead of them was the level 4-plus group of about 15 people. The guy stopped running and joined up with his friend. He introduced himself as Gabriel, and his friend's name was Frank. Frank had introduced Gabriel to the Griffith Park night hikes. Gabriel had just been going for a couple months, while Frank had been going on the hikes every week for five years. Gabriel looked no older than 30 while Frank looked like he was around 50. I figured Frank must be in awesome shape if he went hiking every week. I was right, as Gabriel and Frank were the fastest hikers in our group.
At first I thought the hike was kind of weak, but the view of the sparkling city lights of Glendale and downtown LA was worth it. The red smog layer sat on top of a clean blue layer of sky as the sun was getting ready to set. Then we hit a steep hill and by the time I reached the top, I was breathing hard and covered in sweat. Our hike leader was a stocky guy named Andy with dyed red hair and booty shorts. We hiked up a little higher until we hit the bigger paved road, then went into a small trail that I wouldn’t have been able to see even if it was daytime. The sun had just set, and Andy told us that we were about to start our climb. Here I really struggled, since I was the only one without hiking boots. Everytime I slipped I had to put my hand down, and I would get stabbed by these tiny spiky needle things that I couldn’t even see. We climbed to a radio tower and stopped briefly to rest. Everyone was in good spirits, joking and laughing about possible death and needing a helicopter to rescue us. A few of the dudes climbed the rock instead of using a big pipe as a handhold. I tried climbing the rock but got stung by the damn needles again. By the time we hit the top, it was completely dark. As we hiked back down, I talked to Susie, who had also been going on the hikes for a couple months with her sister, who had problems with her night vision because of Lasik surgery. We found about the hike from the same source: Los Angeles Magazine. I don’t really like the lack of depth in the articles of that magazine but it does uncover a few gems once in a while. At the end of the hike, I talked to Frank and Gabriel again. Frank said he was glad I enjoyed the hike and he’d look for me next time.
While LA is extremely diverse, it's also very segregated between the Westsiders, the Eastsiders, the hipsters, the Chicanos, the Asians, the rich white people, the ghetto black people, the lifers, and the recently adopted. But at the night hikes at Griffith park, the walls come down. People come from all different backgrounds and neighborhoods to form their own kind of community. You hike in darkness with reckless abandon, knowing that if you slip and fall, you'll be helped back up because you're with friends. I'm definitely going back.
Late Night Driving Tour of Torrance
My high school friend PimpFace just recently bought a townhouse in Torrance. He’s the first of my friends to buy a house, so I thought I’d visit him and give him a housewarming present. His townhouse is very new and on a quiet street. He gave me a tour of the place and I was impressed. Big kitchen with granite countertops, built-in surround sound system, a huge balcony, hardwood floors, and decent sized rooms. The kid is younger than me, and I wonder how many decades down the road it will be until I can afford a place like the one he just bought.
After hanging out and watching TV, we decided we needed some late night grub. Knowing that Torrance is full of Asian people, he wanted to find an Asian restaurant that was open. We drove around for almost an hour and saw that Torrance has every American restaurant you could ever want. But we still couldn’t find an Asian place that was still open at 12:30AM. The Korean BBQ places were even closed. I was on a mission to find someplace still open other than In-N-Out, even though we were no longer hungry and ready to go to sleep. Finally at 1AM, after combing the streets of Sepulveda, Hawthorne, Crenshaw, and Western, we gave our search. I dropped PimpFace back off at his deluxe townhouse and headed home. As I made a turn back onto Hawthorne, I looked to my left and saw a small Japanese restaurant still open with a few customers inside. What a fucker. So if you’re ever in Torrance with a late-night Asian food craving on a slow Friday night, go to Yamabuki Restaurant & Bar two blocks north of Hawthorne and PCH.
Harvelle’s
1432 4th Street
Santa Monica, CA 90401
Google Maps link
Cost: $6 cover, $3 shots, $5 swamp juice, $6 drinks
Griffith park night hike
Meet at Upper Merry-go-round parking lot #2
Every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday starting at 7PM sharp
Cost: Free
Yamabuki Restaurant & Bar
23863 Hawthorne Blvd
Torrance, CA
(310) 791-0388
Open until at least 1AM
On my twenty-fourth birthday, I got carded when I was buying alcohol at the store, and the cashier guy was surprised that I was 24. When I asked him how old he originally though I was, he said 18. So not only did the guy remind me that I look like a little boy, but also that I was already 24, which made me feel old. On my birthday this year I was glad that I wasn’t reminded of how young I look, how old I actually am, and that I didn’t have to buy my own alcohol.
I haven’t been planning my activities lately, resorting to doing everything last-minute. It was 10AM on a Tuesday morning. I had the day off, which meant a day of opportunity ahead of me. I knew I wanted to drive somewhere away from the city, preferably by the beach. Then LazyBoy told me that the guys were planning to take me out to dinner. I told them I didn’t know if I would be around, but I’d call them later. I busted out the door with full intention of taking a day trip to Santa Barbara. I never made it that far.
UPDATED: Pictures from the Beach Tour, after the jump.
Instead, I drove north on PCH to Malibu. I picked a coastal access sign and made a left to find parking. My first stop was Broad Beach. The street I parked on was a row of nice houses, and literally every house had an army of Mexicans doing work outside. I walked through a narrow access path in between two big ass houses to get to the beach.
On the beach, all I saw were little white kids, teenage white kids, rich white moms. I think I was invading their space. I kicked off my shoes, laid out my beach towel and pulled out the book I have been reading for over two years, City of Quartz.
After getting sunburnt, I drove further north to Leo Carillo State Beach. I realized I had been there before, didn’t really want to get any more sunburnt, and went back down PCH. I stopped across the street from Broad’s Beach at Hows Market to pick up some food.
Hows Market is like Ralph’s when it OD's on richness. All their meat sits in different kinds of delicious looking marinades. I got a Boar’s Head barbeque chicken sandwich from the Deli and left quickly before someone lynched me.
At Zuma Beach, where they filmed Pamela Anderson's jugs juggling, I picked a spot on the sand to eat my sandwich. It was delicious. I must have been really hungry because a kid kept staring at me as I tore into my sandwich like a pig. I should have taken a picture of how fascinated he looked. His parents should take him to the goddamn zoo once in a while. On my way back to the car, I tried to spot a normal, non-SUV car in the parking lot but couldn’t. There was even a Hummer limo. Ahh, Malibu.
Then I drove to the Palisades to go on a hike. I parked at the top of Palisades drive at the entrance to Topanga Canyon State Park trail. After walking past the gated homes and up a smoothly paved path, I hit the trail. I hiked uphill for a while and checked out the scenery. Then I kind of slid down the steep path, through a narrow opening in between the branches, and saw a big rock. I realized that I had been on this hike before, because I distinctly remembered sitting on that big rock and squatting like I was taking a shit. I climbed to the top of the rock and was treated to a panoramic view from Malibu all the way to downtown LA. It was gorgeous. Too bad I ran out of film by then.
I sat on the rock for a while, enjoying my respite from the worries of everyday city life. One of the reasons why I like hiking is that it clears my brain. Viewing the city from the distance and feeling the perfect balance of summer sun and clean ocean breeze helps me to gain perspective. Problems become insignificant and life kind of starts to make sense. The epiphany never happens, but being on the mountain, either on a trail or on a big rock, always makes me come close to reaching that understanding.
After that, I was tired and drove home. I hung out with the boys at dinner and then we went to Gas Lite to try to get WrathOfDrunkenness drunk again. I wasn’t interested in having a repeat of my puking session last year, so my friends only had to buy me two drinks. A music producer of note was seriously impressed by Tiny’s singing skills. When we left, the producer followed us outside and we stood outside in a circle for a couple hours while he hustled us into believing Tiny could be a hip hop star. He talked to each of us to see what we did, dropped some old school hip-hop knowledge, and told us how we all needed to get our shit together. When the bar closed and some girls came out, the producer pulled away from our circle to hustle the girls.
Producer: You all want to get some food right now?
Ladies: Yeah, where at?
Producer: I know this tight French spot.
Ladies: Really?
Producer: Yeah, it’s called Le Jacque in Ze Box. Let’s go!
Before he left with the girls, he gave Tiny his card and told him to hit him up so they could set up a recording session. If it was hot, they’d go make some money. If not, it would be nice meeting him anyway. On the drive back, Tiny said he doesn't think he has the goods to be a singer, he just likes messing around when he sings. It was a smooth hustle anyway.
That was the end of my birthday non-extravaganza. Although there was no beach bash, there was plenty of chill and little hype, just the way I like it. But next year I’m gonna throw a huge party and puke on the bathroom floor of a really nice establishment.
Monday, August 21, 2006
What: Gas Lite, Liquid Kitty, Tattle Tale Room
Where: Santa Monica, West LA, Culver City
Cost: $24 for 3 drinks
Rating: 3 out of 4 stars
The day I decided to tackle Thirty Day LA, I went online and planned out my first two weeks of activities. On my fourth week of adventures, I was getting a little burnt out. Not from all the fun, but from all the planning. I didn’t really want to spend time looking for stuff to do anymore. The only thing that kept me going was a strong desire to burn more money on alcohol. Technically, once the clock hit 12, it would be Tuesday night, which would be my birthday. I thought I would go revisit one of the places I had fond memories of from my birthday last year, Liquid Kitty. I vaguely recalled that there was a karaoke machine. Might as well make a tour out of it and visit as many karaoke dive bars as I could stand.
Gas Lite
2030 Wilshire Blvd
Santa Monica, CA 90403
Google Maps link
(310) 829-2382
Cost: No cover, $6 drinks
This entire bar area at Gas Lite smelled like vomit. Despite this, it was pretty packed on a Monday night. The bartender was really cool and immediately noticed me and asked for my drink order. When I went to Backstage on the first day of my adventures, I had to stand around, staring directly into the bartender’s eyes and wait, but she kept ignoring me, even turning her back and counting cash from the register just so she wouldn’t have to serve me. This dude was much cooler. I found an open bar stool near the front and watched people sing. An Asian girl at a table full of dudes gave me the stink eye, and I looked to my right and saw a couple cute girls. They looked over and quickly looked away, horrified that I had made eye contact with them. Then the KJ announced she was having problems with her mouse and that it would take a while to restore the music. Since I was out to hit up karaoke bars and not girls who had no interest in me, I got up to leave. As I was leaving more attractive girls filed through the door. I didn’t indulge my urge to turn back and stay a little longer.
Liquid Kitty
11780 W Pico Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90064
Google Maps link
(310) 473-3707
Cost: No cover, $7 mixed drinks, $9-10 martinis
Liquid Kitty is known for its strong martinis and comfortable atmosphere. I took an empty seat at the bar, and there was an empty seat on each side of me. The bartender made me a strong rum and coke, but I only tipped him a dollar, so the second one I ordered was decidedly weaker. I gave him two bucks to make up for it. I like doing things backwards. The place was pretty empty, which was on par with what I remembered from the last time.
This is another one to add to my collection of barfing in the bathroom stories. After getting drunk on sake at my birthday dinner last year, my friends and I headed over to Liquid Kitty in West LA. Because I was a very wise person back then, I proceeded to have three martinis. This resulted in me spending an hour on the floor of the bathroom puking into the toilet, while the stall door kept trying to close on my ass. The workers told me to leave, and I spent another half hour puking into the planter outside. They were nice enough to let me stay there until I could move again. Good times.
This year, I thought I would be a little tamer. Relaxing with my drink, I watched someone sing a rock song when I saw the dudes sitting next to me doing the air-guitar-hero.
Me: Guitar Hero?
Dude 1: Yeah!
Dude 2: WOO! GUITAR HERO! YEAAH! (runs over and high fives me)
Dude 2 wasn’t even drunk, he was just that excited about Guitar Hero. So we talked about that, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Supernatural (the rapper not the shitty WB/CW show), and work. Dude 2 told me he owned a post-production facility in Santa Monica and how he would invite clients over and spend a couple hours rocking out with Guitar Hero instead of doing actual work. Dude 1 got up and sang an old rock song that I didn’t recognize because I’m the least musically educated person in all of Los Angeles, and he tore it up. Dude 2 told me to look up his company, I said cool, and they took off. I watched one more singer and then took off myself. I had one more place to visit before the night ended.
Tattle Tale Room
5401 Sepulveda Blvd
Culver City, CA 90230
Google Maps link
(310) 390-2489
Cost: No cover, $3 shots, $5 drinks
I drove over to pick up Tiny and called GuitarHero (my friend, not the game) to meet us at Tattle Tale Room. There was a drunk older guy passed out next to the juke box as we walked in. The lights were pretty bright inside for a dive bar. I asked the KJ if I had enough time to sing a song, and he said he’d try. I told him it was my birthday, and he gave me the same response: he’d try. Tiny bought me some drinks including a fruity and delicious shot. GuitarHero arrived and we decided to sing Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” in the style immortalized by Jack Black in High Fidelity. It was last call, and our chances didn’t look good. Then the KJ guy said it was my turn, apologized to the two people who were in line in front of us, and said it was my birthday and the seven or so people who were there cheered. So I got up on the mic with GuitarHero and Tiny and we belted out Let’s Get It On as everyone danced and sang along.
I was rather happy and drunk as we went home. It was a good way to start off my birthday. Satan had given me the next day off so I didn’t even have to wake up early in the morning. Good thing too because after I got back and stormed around the apartment to work off my buzz, it was already 2:30AM. I looked forward to my day of freedom. There’s nothing better than ditching work on a summer day instead of slaving away at something insignificant inside a fluorescent-lit office building. I went to bed wondering how I might find significance on my birthday and in the rest of my life as well.
I'm sad to report that Thirty Day LA is winding down, as I'm on my 24th day of doing something new everyday. But I've decided to finish out the rest of the month, so technically it'll be 34 Day LA or something like that. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, that's some bullshit. I agree. Anyway, onto the review, which I'm four days late on.
Cost: B+
For week 3, I spent a total of $176, a little over $25 a day. This past week was $27 cheaper than week 2. Regardless, I'm still broke. Normally I've a very fiscally responsible person. I pay off all my bills in full and put away as much as I can into savings. This month, I haven't paid all the bills yet and I'm already broke. I'm pretty scared to look at my credit card bill, even though I have a good idea of how much it's going to be. Yeah I'm getting an ulcer just thinking about it, so I'll stop.
Most expensive: Circle Bar. 5 drinks came out to $44. Good thing I wasn't drinking that night or that bill would have felt like a cockpunch.
Least expensive: Nike Run Hit Remix training run. We got free pizza afterwards, so the total cost was nothing if you don't count gas. All we had to do was subject ourselves to a barrage of Nike advertising.
Best value: Midnight Ridazz. The ride was free, the only costs were transportation and food, which came out to about $12. The best part was that I got to ride by the very spots in Hollywood that contributed to my $110 drinking bill two weeks ago and have better and cheaper fun on the streets outside.
Fun: B
Going out on my own that first night to The Other Room wasn't that fun. In fact, it was kind of depressing. But the rest of the week made up for it, like the Beach Bum Mini-Tour, Midnight Ridazz, and the escapades of WrathOfDrunkenness. Hookah-smoking was very cool as well.
Originality and Variety: A
This week I did more of the planning activities on my own instead of searching online for stuff to do. I'm glad I decided to do more stuff on my own because doing simple things like eating out or getting a drink by yourself is a completely different experience. I'm planning on continuing the alone thing next week too. One thing I need to work on is switching up locations. Except for Midnight Ridazz, the activities I did the past week were all on the Westside. Overall, lots of exercising, lots of drinking, and lots of good food.
Maintaining activities: B
I did a little better this week. I need to improve this to an A by the final week so I will actually be able to incorporate some of Thirty Day LA into my normal life.
Overall: A-
Woohoo improvement. I'm going to go bake myself a cookie.
So what did I learn this week?
The details of week 4, which includes the day of my birthday, are soon to come.
Since I have started to do things in LA on my own for all of three days, I now declare myself an expert on the subject. And to commemorate my ascent into expertdom concerning all matters of Lonely LA Living, here’s my list of top ten things to do in LA by yourself.
Of course there's always stuff like working out or masturbating, but you don't have to be in LA for that. You can do that shit anywhere.
Feel free to contribute your own favorite LA-related alone-time activities. I bet they’re not as good as mine.
After working on my car and playing ball at the park in Santa Monica, it was 8 o’clock on Sunday of my third official week of Thirty Day LA, and I still hadn’t done anything new. I felt like giving up. I was tired as hell from too much exercise and too little sleep. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal if I missed a day, I’d just lie about doing something new. I've been low on motivation for a while. But then Tiny suggested we go to a place that I’ve driven by a million times but never gone into: Café Dahab in West LA, on Sawtelle and Santa Monica. Might as well keep the streak alive, I thought.
Café Dahab is a late night middle-eastern restaurant that offers hookah pipes for your late-night tobacco puffing pleasure. Tiny’s been there several times before, but it was new for me. The place was packed at 9:30PM. There were mostly Persian people there but also quite a few white and Asian people as well. We ordered Howawshi, Turkish coffee, Persian ice cream, and Fantasy Island hookah.
The howawshi is ground beef with onions and seasonings stuffed into a grilled pita, and it’s really good. The key to drinking Turkish coffee is downing it like a shot, otherwise it solidifies. The Persian ice cream had a slightly sour flavor and was less sweet than traditional American ice cream. I’ve only smoked a cigarette once before and I never want to again. I’m a straight-laced goody boy like that. Tiny assured me that hookah is different in that its very light and non-addictive. The hookah was indeed quite pleasant and relaxing. It seems like a good way for me to assume the brooding moodiness that smokers project without actually having to smoke cigarettes.
Tiny and I talked about getting our lives in order. The way I figure it, if you want something more out of your life than you currently have there’s two approaches: work hard right now to make a ton of money so you can afford to pursue your passion later, or follow your dreams now by surviving on no money but laying down the groundwork for your future. Either way, you have to hustle hard, and I don’t know if either of us are doing that. We planned out what we need to do and we’re going to start putting our plans into motion this week.
By the end of the night, I had a tiny buzz going. I think I hit that hookah pipe a little too hard, but I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. It makes me wonder how many other opportunities I’ve had in my years in LA to experience something I’d enjoy but I just let them pass right by.
Cafe Dahab
1638-1640 Sawtelle Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90025
Google Maps link
For my entire drinking career, I’ve never been the most sober one at a party. Usually I’m the loudest, stupidest drunk in the entire place. I can name six different restaurants where I have spent a couple hours on the bathroom floor, puking my guts out into the toilet. One of them was Medieval Times in front of several horrified children. Another one was at a bar in Northern California, where I barfed in the toilet until they kicked me out, then crawled through the parking lot blind from my drunkenness, trying to help my friends convince a police officer that I was fine by yelling, "I'm OK! I just needed to... blrbrbbptth." I decided to challenge myself to be sober for an entire night at a bar full of drunken fools and resist the temptation to join them.
It was WrathOfSickness’ birthday and we were going to Circle Bar with a group of mostly guys. I was pretty beat from the past week and wasn’t that excited to go. It was a recipe for an overall shitty night. To make use of my self-imposed soberness I told WrathOfSickness that I would be DD. And this time I would actually do it.
Now the Wrath is normally a soft-spoken, respectful, laid-back kind of guy. He would be the kind of guy you see standing in the back of the bar, chilling by himself. He doesn’t really drink, doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t do anything in excess other than get sick and be dirty. He seems like a good guy to hang out and talk about underground hip-hop with, but probably not someone you would go out partying with.
After reading on Citysearch about how Circle Bar is full of ugly aggressive guys, we knew we would feel right at home. When we got to Circle Bar it was pretty much empty. The guys we went with staked out the table in the back. I bought the Wrath a drink and we stood around talking about mid-twenties life crisis shit. Wrath felt like he should talk to other people, so I went to the front of the bar to get a good view of the waitresses, who were by far the most attractive women in the place. I sat down at the bar with 15 other guys in a row, all stirring their drinks and looking around.
When it started getting packed, the Wrath returned and we continued our existential pontification. We were just killing time until Tiny arrived, knowing he would bring the party flavor with him. Wrath’s other friends bought him a drink. Then another one. Then Tiny arrived and I bought them both a drink. I told the cute waitress to make something really strong, and she obliged. By then, Wrath’s volume elevated from a mute to a full-on yell. I could hear him clearly over the 3 Doors Down that blasted over the bar’s shitty speakers. Then the Wrath made an about-face and revealed his drunken side.
I spent most of the night making sure the Wrath was OK. He had a big grin on his face the whole time as he yelled in everyone’s ear. He spent a good amount of time with his arms wrapped around other people, the life of the party. Later at Del Taco, the Wrath continued his drunken spectacular.
I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe and kept wiping tears out of my eyes. The drunk, mean, screaming Wrath was singlehandedly the best part of my night of soberness. I’m glad he had a good birthday. From here on out, WrathOfSickness’ new name is WrathOfDrunkenness.
It’s too bad I didn’t have a videocamera, or else I’d have some good footage to blackmail him with in the future when he's the CTO of a major health care organization. Happy Birthday, Wrath. Hope to see you drunk again soon.
Circle Bar
2926 Main Street
Santa Monica, CA 90405
(310) 450-0508
Google Maps link
As I am in the process of discovering, there’s plenty of opportunities to have fun on your own in LA. But being in a massive crowd of 200 people barreling through the streets of Hollywood on bikes is a kind of fun that can’t be matched on your own.
Midnight Ridazz was the coolest LA activity I’ve ever been a part of. It’s LA’s own version of Critical Mass, where bikers from all different backgrounds get together to ride through the streets of Hollywood. It's held every second Friday of the month, meet time is 9:30PM. For some reason, they had a new Midnight Ridazz this past week, starting at Jumbo's Clown Room on Sunset, then through Hollywood Blvd past notable landmarks like Hollywood and Highland Center, Mann’s Chinese Theatre, Hollywood Forever Cemetary, the West Hollywood Strip, the Sunset strip, and ended in Library Park.
GuitarHero drove StimpPimp and I in his bike-storage-capable SUV to the meeting place. After a half hour of milling around, the crowd of 200 set off west on Hollywood Boulevard. At first, the biggest thrill was being on the streets in a huge mass of bikes. I am not a smiley person, but I was smiling the entire time. I yelled HOLLA! at all the party people on the sidewalks in between Vine and Highland staring at us as we rode by. In addition to all the bikers, we had a full police escort of 3 bike cops, a few squad cars, and a helicopter. The cop car would stop at an intersection to allow us to pass, then it would speed past us on the left with lights flashing and sirens blaring to block off the next intersection. The cop did this for at least twenty intersections. Then a ghetto bird flashed its lights at us as we took a break at the parking lot of the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
Occasionally people would stand on the sidewalks cheering for us as we passed by en masse. One biker pulled a stereo behind him blasting the song “Power to the People.” I flew down the steep hill on La Cienega, swerving in between my fellow bikers yelling "No brakes! I'm gonna die! No brakes!!!" By the end of the ride, it felt completely natural to take up an entire lane on the streets in Hollywood on a busy Friday night.
We mulled around for a little bit in Library Park and people eventually broke off and went their separate ways. We took a long and tiring half an hour riding back to our original location, finally getting back at 1AM. We ate at Sanamluang across the street, a Thai restaurant that’s open late night and everything on the menu is delicious. We went home tired, full, and happy. Greatest bike ride ever, man.
Check out the Midnight Ridazz Website for badass action shots.
Midnight Ridazz
Second Friday of every month
Meet at 9:30PM, ride starts at 10PM
Check website for meeting places
Sanamluang Cafe
5170 Hollywood Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90027-6133
(323) 660-8006
Google Maps link
Thursday, August 17, 2006
What: Ercoles, Abbott’s Habit, Inti-Illimani.
Where: Manhattan Beach, Venice Beach, Santa Monica Pier
Cost: $36 for food, drinks, parking, and music CD
Rating: 4 out of 4 stars
I love tours. On Thursday I took a mini-tour along the coast, from Manhattan Beach to Venice to Santa Monica. This one was less extravagant than the hipster tour of Silver Lake.
I started off at Ercoles, a local dive bar in Manhattan Beach. I was at least half the age of all the people there. Regardless, it was interesting listening to all the regulars chat it up with the workers about baseball. The cook had a little window that opened up to the street through which he talked to his homies chilling outside. I ordered a Stella and a juicy, delicious 1” thick burger. It was dripping with mayo, ketchup and mustard, but the juiciness of that thick ass patty catapulted it to my top five list of best burgers ever.
Then I drove over to Santa Monica and like a true tourist, I went to the Pier. Every Thursday this summer they have a free concert on the Santa Monica Pier sponsored by Amoeba Music. The performing act for this Thursday was Inti-Illimani, a Chilean band. From the Washington Post taken from the Cal Performances website:
Inti-Illimani stands today as Chile's ambassador of human expression, its unique sound a mantra for peace in the world and within ourselves. Springing from traditional Chilean roots and playing on more than 30 wind, string, and percussion instruments, the group's combination of instrumentals and vocals captures the spirit of sacred places, people's carnivals, daily lives, loves, and pains—all combining to paint an extraordinary cultural mural. Enough to raise anyone's spirits—a program full of melodic energy, rhythmic vitality, and exotic timbres.
I heard them playing all the way from Ocean Avenue as I was walking over. There were 8 guys each playing different instruments, all of them at the top of their form. Some of their songs are instrumental, some have one singer, and some have all of them singing. I didn’t understand much, but the songs themselves alternated between upbeat and uplifting. There were about 400 people in the crowd all bobbing to the beat. There was a big truck with a videocamera on top and a giant spotlight, and bubbles were blown over the audience the entire time. I spotted a baby in his mother’s arms being bounced to the beat, and then he threw his arms in the air and bumped it to the beat as well. There was a lady standing next to me who was by herself too, and she translated for me some of what the bandleader Jorge Coulon said in between songs -- how the world is actually a small place and their music and culture tries to bring people together. I thought they succeeded in their efforts quite well. I bought their CD, Grandes Exitos, which the guy told me is the CD to get to know them. Driving home on the 10, windows open and music blasting, I thought about how even if I try I can never truly be alone in LA, especially when I get the opportunity to spend a balmy summer night outdoors surrounded by hundreds of people enjoying an amazing concert.
Discussing the gregarious ways of my coworker/boss Satan in my Six Step Self-Improvement Plan post made me realize that the tactics he uses in restaurants and bars deserve a post of its own.
Satan used the above method to charm our bartender Teresa into hooking us up for food and drinks forever at a Mexican restaurant/bar in El Segundo. Our typical bill for 10 drinks, including beer, rum and cokes, and stoli tonics runs around $25. We also get 10% off food, and this is all during non-happy hour times. Teresa loves Satan so much that she even has another bartender Johnny hooking us up when she's not there. When it's time for the bill, Johnny will tell the manager to go take care of some other customer, quickly ring up the bill, and throw it on our table before the manager returns. When we all leave, we make sure to tell Johnny how awesome he is.
If anyone tries this technique out, let me know how it works out. And then make sure to invite me to your newfound hooked-up establishment every time you go.
This has nothing to do with 30 Day LA, but I just thought I'd share why I call myself Captain Melo. First, a little background info on me. I really like basketball. Before I started on this reinventing myself by doing new things everyday fad, I played basketball almost every day. I don't talk write about basketball because it's not something new when I do it all the time. But I spend a lot of time watching basketball, reading about basketball, and playing basketball. I'm addicted. I even like the Clippers. There's several basketball players I enjoy watching and rooting for. Unfortunately, Carmelo Anthony is not one of them, despite the fact that he is my NBA doppleganger.
Carmelo Anthony has just been named a co-captain of Team USA Basketball for the 2006 FIBA World Championships, along with LeBron James and Dwyane Wade. If I were 6 foot 8 and 230 pounds and vaguely black looking, the professional basketball player I would most resemble is Carmelo Anthony. From his ball-hogging, reckless slashing, shaky jump-shooting ways right down to how he looks like a chubby eighteen year old girl with a faint trace of facial hair.
From now on, I will talk as though I’m actually Carmelo Anthony, just poor and short. By the way, if I blew that layup it’s because that monstrous Neanderthal-looking Chinaman scared the shit out of me.
I read a lot of blogs at work, and my favorite kinds of blogs posts are self-improvement lists. I thought I’d try my hand at one.
6 step plan for self-improvement
In my case, I would be using the above plan to solve my problem of not being adventurous enough. This blog kind of follows along the steps I used in implementing the plan. Right now, I’m at step 2. I don’t need a pretentious self-help guru telling me how to do improve myself. I'll do it my own damn way.
Anyway, here’s a rundown of my activities this week so far in my quest for self-glorification, I mean, self-improvement:
More details after the jump.
WARNING: Longest post ever in the history of the blogosphere.
Before we get to the reviews of the activities, I’d like to ramble about the results of my attempts to do things alone. This would be step five in the bullshit list I created above.
First of all, the reason I’ve never been to a bar in LA by myself is because I’m too damn self-conscious. When I was small, I thought about how cool it would be as this older, rich, sophisticated gentleman to go to an empty bar and chat up the attentive bartender about my life problems on a stopover from LA to Switzerland or some other exotic foreign place. But in LA, most of the bars I see, even the dive bars, are filled with groups of friends having a fucking blast. I would never feel right going to a bar on my own and trying to talk to people who already had other more interesting friends. I have no problems making friends at bars when I’m completely drunk, but that’s a different case. If I’m at a bar by myself, I couldn’t get so drunk that I couldn’t go home, which would severely limit my social activities. On top of that, I would be worried that people would think I’m a weird loser for going to a bar alone.
Second of all, I’m kind of antisocial unless I’m drunk. It’s pretty sad, and that’s probably a bigger problem area in my life that I should address before this exploration and adventurous shit. I start thinking about what I should say to people or how they might judge me, and then I end up just being really quiet. When I’m drunk, I make friends with random people at bars, on the street, even while driving. I still haven’t figured out how to bridge the gap between my drunken friendliness and my sober silence, but I figure that if I keep pushing myself to talk more to people when I’m out and about by myself then something will eventually have to click in my brain to make it happen.
Third of all, I’m a more reserved person around people I don’t know. I sometimes watch in awe when some of my friends like HairyIndian, Lefty, ShopGirl, Tiny, and especially Satan, talk to strangers with such ease. Most of the restaurants we eat at with Satan hook us up with discounts on food or liquor because he talks them up. I feel like I miss out on a lot of interesting experiences and conversations precisely because I’m so quiet around people I don’t know. Chalk it up to insecurity or lack of social skills, but it’s who I am and I have to figure out how to deal with it.
Despite all these horrific shortcomings, I did manage to achieve a tiny bit of self-growth over the past 3 days.
Monday: with GuitarHero and StimpPimp, ran 3 miles with a training group for Nike Run Hit Wonder. Started off at Westwood Brewing Company and ran through my old stomping grounds at UCLA. Obviously, I didn't do it by myself and so I didn't feel the need or urge to socialize. I did talk to one of the run leaders, a buff black lady with muscles that I could never hope to have, and she said there's a run starting at Yankee Doodle's at 3rd Street in Santa Monica every Wednesday. Unfortunately, they don't run on the beach.
Tuesday: The start of my self-ordained solitary. Also was national Best Friend Day. I went to The Other Room in Venice on Abbott Kinney Road. At the bar, I briefly talked with a girl waiting for a drink next to me about the place. She told me it’s pretty much a local joint and the line to get in on the weekends is around the block. I had a Fat Tire and tried to make it last an hour, something I've never done before. I spent the whole time people-watching, because watching people while I'm alone at a bar sounds kind of creepy. After I was done with that, I talked with an Asian guy and he recommended I get a Chimay Rouge, because "a blue will totally fuck you up." I’d definitely go back again sometime because it’s packed with good looking people and the Chimay Rouge burned my throat in a strangely exciting way. While I was people-watching, I realized that no one really cared or thought anything of me just because I was alone. After that I felt more comfortable, like I could imagine myself going to other bars alone. Supposedly it's pretty easy to meet new friends at the The Other Room, but I'll chalk up my lack of a new BFF this time to not being drunk enough. Damn me, why did I let National Best Friends Day go to waste?
Wednesday: Biked to work. Sometimes routine can be good. On the way back, stopped by Sakura and ate at the sushi bar. The sushi there is fresh and delicious and they give you huge slabs of fish. I had bluefin tuna, albacore, seared ono, and a spicy tuna roll. This place also has mostly local customers, as the sushi chef seemed to know a lot of them. I wasn't very talkative because I was really enjoying the sushi. The only other party of one there was a creepy looking older dude who kept ordering around the waitress. I've actually never eaten a meal at a sit-down restaurant by myself outside of my home, probable because I didn't want to look lonely. But now that I've done it, it seems like a pretty natural thing to do. And I've never spent that much on dinner for myself in my entire life. The bill came out to $28 including tip.
So it's been two days of being alone, and tomorrow will be another one as well. If you read this far, then it sucks to be you because I don't really have anything interesting to report. Serves you right for reading this post just because it has a self-help list.
Westwood Brewing Company
1097 Glendon Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90024
Google Maps Link
(310) 209-2739
The Other Room
1201 Abbot Kinney Boulevard
Venice, CA 90293
Google Maps Link
(310) 396-6230
Sakura Japanese Restaurant
4545 S Centinela Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90066
Google Maps Link
(310) 822-7790
I have a great group of friends. At any time of day I can usually find someone to hang out or go somewhere with. I’ve been told by quite a few people how lucky I am to have such a close group of friends who all get along so well and how rare that really is.
But I’ve come to realize that I rely on my friends too much.
Here’s an example: If I ever want to do something, I’ll usually see if anyone’s free and wait for them and go out with them. If no one is around (meaning no one is online), then I’ll end up sitting around doing jack shit.
With 30 Day LA, I’ve come to realize that I don’t really do much on my own. Even though I’d like to think I’m an independent kind of person, I am actually shy, introverted, and scared of doing stuff alone. I watched Little Miss Sunshine with Tiny the other day, and it tried to tackle the true definition of success. The hilariously bitter grandpa, played by Alan Arkin, said that success was having a big idea and trying to achieve it on your own and in your own way, and regardless of how it turned out, you’d already be a success. This point hit home for me, because I don’t know what I’ve ever really done on my own. I’ve been fortunate enough to always have friends and family to support me. But I feel like that taste of true success has eluded me for my entire life.
An external motivation for me in doing this adventure was to explore the city. But I had a more important internal goal of breaking through my mental roadblocks of fear, comfort, and complacency. And that’s something I need to figure out on my own.
So for the rest of my thirty days, I will try to do more things alone. It might be hard at first, but I have a feeling that if I survive the plank walk, the rewards will be much greater. I just need to make the most out of all my outings alone. In a backwards way, I’m hoping that learning to do things alone will help me become more sociable.
LA seems like a very sociable town. Wherever you go, there’s always a group of people doing stuff together. If you see someone alone, chances are they’ll be on a cell phone, socializing. But for a place that offers so many opportunities to hang out, meet people, and make friends, it always feels so lonely. I wonder if it’s just me or if it’s the entire city that’s afraid of being alone.
At the end of this, maybe I’ll learn how to separate being alone from being lonely.
I forgot to update about Sunday. I was planning to bike over to Manhattan Beach and get breakfast at Uncle Bill’s Pancakes with ShopGirl, but I woke up too late. That was two blown bike appointments in one week. So instead, I went back to sleep for another two hours, then headed over to Arcadia/Pasadena with ObligatedGirl for another afternoon of newness.
First stop, Din Tai Fung dumpling house in Arcadia. In Chinese, dumplings are called Small Dragon Balls. Din Tai Fung is famous for infusing sauce into their dumplings, so everytime you put a Small Dragon Ball in your mouth you receive a wonderful blast of deliciousness. In New York's Chinatown they have a similar restaurant called Joe's Shanghai, but trust me, it's not as good. I’ve been to the Din Tai Fung in Arcadia before, as well as the one in Taiwan. Taiwan’s Din Tai Fung is a must-go restaurant if you’re ever traveling there. HalfFobBlabber introduced the place to me, a constantly packed, narrow 3-story restaurant that serves arguably the best juicy small dragon balls in the world. Efficient servers bring out stacked trays of steaming dumplings to eager diners in a stuffy but enjoyable atmosphere. Din Tai Fung in Arcadia is much smaller, not quite as good as the one in Taiwan, but just as packed. The small waiting area has a window into the tiny small room where 10 Mexican and Chinese workers stand side-by-side rolling dough, stuffing ingredients, pinching wraps. On a Sunday afternoon, the line was forty-five minutes for a table of two. After about thirty minutes of staring at the workers who returned our stares in kind, we couldn’t stand the wait anymore. We got our order to go and I tipped the lady a couple extra bucks because she got it super fast for us.
A quick drive over to Pasadena, and we parked and sat on the curb eating our delicious dumplings. We had two boxes of ten each: one regular, the other crab. The regular Small Dragon Balls were much better. Then we accomplished my new thing of the day when we entered the massively gigantic hyperbolic Rose Bowl Flea Market.
The Rose Bowl Flea Market is probably the biggest flea market I’ve ever been to in my life. Imagine a giant tailgate party, only with antiques, ragged clothing, and trinkets instead of barbeques, beer, and testosterone-laden excitement. It runs every second Sunday of the month from 9AM to 3PM and admission is $7. I talked with a seller of old music posters who told me he had been out there every month for about 12 years, but now he had an EBay shop (PosterXChange) and made a ton of money on that and didn’t need to come out anymore. I told him I’d visit his EBay store even though we both knew I wouldn’t. It was an especially hot day and ObligatedGirl succumbed to the mighty temptation of a $4 soda. My main mission at the flea market was to find an awesome wall clock. A month ago, I discovered the clock on my computer was an hour off. So when I thought I was going to sleep at 12 or sometimes 1, I was actually going to sleep as late as 2. No wonder I was so tired all the time. Anyway, I thought that was another insight into my stupidity, so I figured a wall clock would be the appropriate cure. I found one that was designed like the steering wheel of an old ship, but it was electricity operated and the seller said he didn’t know if it worked or not. I knew he was lying. I bargained him down from $20 to $12 (yeah still not a great bargain and not that awesome), and along with a Georgia Choir Gospel Music tape for $5 (because I care about black people) and ObligatedGirl’s $3 bling chain, we were set for the day. Next month, we’ll have to come earlier and spend more time trying to pick out the good deals.
Back in the Westside, I smacked ObligatedGirl’s ass. At tennis, 6-0. And I found out the clock doesn't work, but I can fix it. And that was my Sunday. How was yours?
Din Tai Fung
1108 S Baldwin Ave
Arcadia, CA 91007-7508
Google Maps link
(626) 574-7068
Cost: $6.25 for 10 dumplings
Rose Bowl Flea Market
1001 Rose Bowl Dr.
Pasadena, CA 91103
Google Maps link
Second Sunday of every month, 9AM - 4:30PM
Cost: $7 general admission
Cost: B
To fund my activities for the second week of 30 Day LA, I spent a grand total of $203, including gas. This comes out to an average of $29 a day.
Most expensive: $47 on Saturday, which included food, admission to Tofu Festival, and admission to the Troubadour.
Least expensive: $8 on Wednesday, biking day. Ate out for lunch but got some exercise.
Best value: $22 on Monday: dinner at California Chicken Cafe, movie and parking at the Arclight, frozen yogurt from Big Chill.
Fun: B
It’s kind of hard to grade week 2 on fun. It wasn’t as exciting as week 1, it was more low-key but still enjoyable. It’s like comparing “Sweet, that was awesome!” to “Cool I’ll have to do that again.” Exciting has a stronger immediate impact, but low-key is more sustainable and affordable.
Some memorable moments:
Originality: C
As covered in my post about routine, I feel like I’m doing the same stuff over and over again. I need to do more outlandish, daring things and do it on my own. I might try to meet people but completely lie about everything I say, or perhaps find a streetballer park and run a couple games, or even crash a hostile party. Also, a lot of the stuff I have been doing can be easily found on the web. I need to do some more groundwork and find stuff to do on my own.
Variety: A
The activities themselves have been pretty varied, from biking to work to going to a concert to going to a flea market. So far, I've been doing good in maintaining a wide range of activities, which helps me achieve one of my sub-goals of getting to know the city better.
Maintaining activities: D
I only cooked once, didn’t run, biked only once (but it was a decent total of 27 miles), and didn’t get many errands done.
Overall: B-
This week wasn’t as strong as week 1. But I did learn some valuable lessons:
Perhaps I will cut down on the time I spend blogging about my adventures and spend more time making the adventures themselves more interesting and worth writing about. Now there’s a plan.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
What: Tofu Festival, screening of Psycho at the Hollywood Forever cemetary, the Troubadour, the Abbey.
Where: Little Tokyo, Hollywood, West Hollywood
Cost: $47 including food and admission
Rating: 1 out of 4 stars
WARNING: Long post. Condensed version: Saturday was a big giant bust. For the details, including some rambling incoherent stories, read on!
On Saturday, I ate some watermelon and drank some water, made sure it wasn’t coming back up, and declared myself fit to go out. Along with ShopGirl and GuitarHero, we went to the Tofu Festival in Little Tokyo.
Disclaimer: I went to the Tofu Festival four years ago and I didn't really like it. It was kind of boring and overpriced. I did meet Karin Anna Cheung, the actress that was in Better Luck Tomorrow. I was wearing a Better Luck Tomorrow shirt that GuitarHero had bought me, and I saw her walking around but I didn’t bother to say hi to her because I’m a loser like that. Then when I was waiting in line, looking around disinterestedly, she walked up to me.
KAC: Hey.
Me: Hey.
KAC: Nice shirt.
Me: Oh yeah, haha, thanks.
We talked a little bit and then she ran off. I thought I was quite the idiot.
Anyway, I went to the Tofu Festival this year cuz I had nothing else planned during the day. And once again, there was nothing interesting to report, at least in the two hours that we were there. We got some katsu tofu curry rice from the Curry House stand, chicken satay and lobster balls from some Thai food stand, and a ton of soy frozen yogurt. Admission was $7 (with a $1 off coupon) and we each spent $10 on scrip tickets. We left bored from the tofu festival, but excited about attending an outdoor screening of Psycho at the Hollywood Forever Cemetary, presented by Cinespia.
There was a DJ spinning music at 7:30 and the movie started at 9, so we thought we had some time. We were wrong. When we got there around 8:45, they already sold out of tickets and locked the gates. We were bummed out, and I had to do something new to keep the streak alive, so we decided to go to the Troubadour in West Hollywood.
I had never been to the Troubadour before. I had been outside once, however. In my last quarter of college, I was kind of starting to have a crush on this girl. One night, around 1:30AM, she called me up and asked me to pick her and her roommate up from the Troubadour. She said she was really drunk and didn’t know who else to call, and she said she was really sorry to bother me. I obligingly drove over and picked them up. When she walked over to my car, I saw her all dressed up and her hair all done up and that was when I knew my crush on her had turned into a strong attraction. So that night was the beginning of our thing, which lasted only a couple months, but then the Troubadour always reminds me of that night.
Anyway, we bought tickets to the show, not knowing who was playing but at least there were four bands and hopefully one of them would be good. The Troubadour itself is a smaller venue, with about twenty feet of floor in between the bar in the back and the stage in the front. There was also an upstairs loft with 5 rows of seating. Unfortunately for us, all the bands that night were playing really hard rock, which isn’t the kind of music we can readily appreciate. We did try, but to no avail. The first band we saw, Black Guppy, had good guitarists and a strong singer, but the drummer was off-beat the entire time. Since we had gotten there early and the place was half empty, the line guy gave us VIP Lounge pass stickers, so we checked that out. It was a cool little lounge, with a window that overlooked the stage. We decided to go to the Abbey and check it out for a while then come back and hopefully the next band would be better.
I’ve been to the Abbey once before. It’s a big gay bar/club on Santa Monica and Robertson. There’s no cover, it’s usually packed as hell, and it’s also one of the coolest bars I’ve been to in LA. There are usually a bunch of a straight people there and everyone gets along pretty well. And yes, I have another story about a girl for that place. I’m going for the trifecta.
I went there over a year ago with my friends HairyIndian and Tiny, and we chilled on a couch in one of the back areas near the girl’s bathroom for most of the night. Tiny had met some of the girls in the area and introduced us, ran off to hang out with some people, and the rest of the time HairyIndian and I sat around trying not to look too uncool. Then this gorgeous girl, a 5’10 brunette, walks out of the bathroom and starts talking to one of the girls we were talking to earlier. HairyIndian and I start gushing about how this girl is one of the most beautiful women we’ve ever seen in LA. Then the other girl introduces GorgeousGirl to us, and all of a sudden she’s chatting our ears off. HairyIndian and I are smiling and nodding like idiots as she talks about her life and how she lives in Venice and how she was on MySpace and some kid wanted to go on a date with her but then she thought it was such a turn off when MySpace people get all aggressive. I didn’t really follow most of what she said, so I just kept on asking generic questions and she kept on talking. So five minutes in the conversation, both HairyIndian and I are smiling like lunatics, and she talks about how she’s really into gay guys. She then reveals why she’s at the Abbey that night: to pick up either a really hot gay guy or a super hot lesbian girl so she can have a threesome with her husband that night. I smile and nod, HairyIndian smiles and nods, and then I think, wait, what, husband? She points over at the husband who’s been sitting at the other end of the couch talking to some other girls the whole time we’ve been talking to GorgeousGirl. So then she talks about what she looks for in a really hot gay guy and how she’s very picky and won’t settle for just mediocre hot. I kind of gave up trying to follow the conversation, and she went off and talked to someone else on the other side of her and HairyIndian and I start talking about other stuff. So later on, GorgeousGirl tells us that she’s going to leave. We see her husband get up too. Then, she reaches out with both her hands, grabs my face, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. She waves bye to HairyIndian and takes off with her husband. I look at HairyIndian, who is completely astounded at what just happened, and I, just as bewildered, shrug and think, only in West Hollywood.
But this time, nothing interesting happened at the Abbey, we just walked around and stood stiffly near the back as some gay guys near us gyrated their hips and flung their arms in the air in beat with the music. GuitarHero said how he felt like he needed to gain fifty pounds of muscle and wear a tighter shirt. ShopGirl said she would be going back sometime on her own just to hang out because she enjoyed the vibe.
We then went back to the Troubadour, and the band was rocking even louder but there were even fewer people on the floor, so I gave up and declared the night a bust. I guess it was inevitable to have a night where things wouldn’t work out as planned. Before I started 30 Day LA, I would have been pretty bummed out. But now, I can take solace in knowing that if one night is a bust, there’s always another one.
I did manage to recoup my losses somewhat. After dropping ShopGirl off, I rented Psycho at the local Blockbuster Video (I hate that fucking place but I don’t have Netflix and it was too late for Videostore Named Desire) and stayed up late watching it. Damn that is a great movie.
Although I didn’t really have any new or interesting stories to report from my Saturday, I did get the chance to reminisce about my past along Santa Monica Boulevard. And San Pedro Street. I should have GuitarHero write me a song about it.
I got out of work and drove to downtown El Segundo for Shakespeare by the Sea. I needed something to eat, so I walked up Main Street, and lo and behold, I found another farmer's market. Perfect timing, as it was closing in 5 minutes. I picked up a delicious Happy Inkan combo #1. Grilled chicken, red onions, tomatoes, rice, and that awesome green sauce. Sorry, no pictures, I'll leave the constant taking pictures of food everywhere I go to another blog. Then I got some white nectarines and a couple of eggplants. I have no idea how to cook eggplant, but I bet if I use 10 cloves of garlic it will taste pretty good.
I grabbed a beach towel from my car and walked with the other families to Library Park. After a pre-show and 10 minutes of downtime, the show began. It was an admission-free production of Comedy of Errors. I'm glad I read a couple excerpts and the Cliff Notes online, because it was kind of hard to keep up with rapid-fire dialogue and the story. Here's how it went down:
So in the end, all misfortunes caused by mistaken identity were resolved, lovers end up together happily ever after, and I went home.
I called up ObligatedGirl to go to Father's Office in Santa Monica for a couple drinks. She brought two of her friends along, MedSchool and SocialWorker. The place is nicely decorated, and I heard the food is great, except we got there right when the kitchen closed. It was half empty, but the people that were there were very good looking. Like an ungrateful bastard, I kept looking around the bar while I had three girls sitting at the table with me. I'll just pretend it was my ADD.
I had two beers that were really good. I forgot the name, but it's what the bartender recommended instead of the Fat Tire I wanted but they didn't have. We chilled out for a while and then went to Tommy's for chili cheese fries.
Then I proceeded to fuck myself up.
After dropping everyone off MedSchool and SocialWorker off, ObligatedGirl and I decided we needed more to drink. So I downed three captain and cokes, while ObligatedGirl poured a shot of Captain into her 7-11 Slurpee. ObligatedGirl had to drive my car home, and then I barely made it back to my apartment alive.
I couldn't wake up for work the next morning. I drank 2 cups of water to try and rid the alcohol sickness out of my body. At 1:30PM I drove into work and spent about ten minutes in the lab before I had to go to the bathroom and puke up all the water I had drank earlier. I passed out in my office, then went back to the lab to see if anyone was there. Since it was Friday, everyone was long gone at 3:30PM. Then I passed out some more in my office and got up and drove home. I almost puked while I was driving through traffic on the 405. When I got home, I ran upstairs and puked up some yellow stuff in my toilet.
I was pretty worried about not being well enough to make Midnight Ridazz. I hoped that taking a nap would remedy my ailments. I woke up at 8PM, still felt sick, ate half a slice of bread and drank half a cup of water, puked that up, and went back to sleep. After looking forward to Midnight Ridazz for a whole month, I missed it because of alcohol. I hate alcohol. And I should have known better to drink beer first before drinking rum. I'm an idiot.
So I guess my streak is still alive, because I've never gone into work at 1:30PM, barfed, slept, then went home, barfed more, slept, barfed again, then slept. Although it seems like such a pathetic way to accomplish my goals. Hopefully today I'll be able to