Ah another night out another night of VIP status another night of “how the hell did we become VIPs?” So G dub and I checked out Boulevard 3 a fairly new bar in the Hollywood area (rather up tight crowd – somewhat pretentious bar – you cannot get in unless you are on the guest list and being on the guest list does not assure entrance and well you get the picture – hot new spot) since we figured we are leaving the Hollywood area so why not get all the bars in now while we can.
So we got there fairly early (you know the whole guest list issue) and of course that meant we got to get ‘our drink on’ early. Of course we had to consume liquor before leaving the house as well…G dub made some Red Bull vodkas that were so pale that even I heavy drinker that I can be had to adjust mine and since we were out of mixers I made a Kool-Aid Red Bull and Vodka then we took shots and then decided “Time for the Bar”. Upon (a word not used nearly enough) arriving at the bar, we did the obligatory people watching for a bit (“I don’t dance I just pull up my pants and lean back”) then spotted what to us appeared to be an ordinary couch table and ottoman arrangement, clearly it had to be open to the general public.
Upon (seriously it is such a fun word – add it to your general conversation for the next two days it will make you smile: For instance watching the game: “Upon Peyton Manning receiving the football he threw an interception causing Colts fans everywhere to throw up-on themselves everywhere [k so I stretched that last upon but it is still a bloody fun word so use it today]) sitting down at the table we were accosted (upon and accosted sound right together) by a young lady who works for the bar. She was actually quite nice but I want to use accosted so there it is. She informed us that the couch area was reserved and not by us. G dub and I then telepathically decided that we had to ‘lawyer’ her and by telepathically I mean we just stared at each other with amused smiles and proceeded with this conversation…
G dub: “So?”
Server: “Well it means when they get here you will have to give it to them”
G Dub: “Hah”
Me: “How did they reserve it?”
Server: “On a credit card?”
Me: “So how do you know that it is not my credit card?”
Me: “Charge everything to that card”
(No we were not assholes enough to actually charge anything to the poor unsuspecting person that reserved the table – but we did use their table the entire time we were at the bar)
What made it even better was how pissed we were when we escorted a friend out and came back to see people sitting at ‘OUR’ table. So we had received a few calls earlier about some friends heading to ‘The Room’ in Santa Monica so despite the fact that Santa Monica was about a ¼ of the city away we decided to head there.
Now I forgot to mention that I had said I was not going to drink much that night, but everyone knows that if you go to a bar it is impolite to not have a drink or 2. So we drank and stared some people down…apparently if you show up late to something and a group of guys have been talking to girls all night it is rude to try and get the girls’ attentions. It led to some funny conversations from G Dub “How the fu@k do you not know me?” and on my part “Tell her I think she is cute…no seriously TELL HER” (I know I know I reverted to high school- but seriously she is cute and so tiny I can lift her up with one hand, I know because I tried).
So after we left the bar we figured it would be a great time to hit the Farmer’s market at 2am in the morning (thank goodness for designated drivers). No shock there it was closed. However it now meant that we were not close to home so a member of the group declared “Pull over to the closest side street I have to take a leak” so we obliged. Unfortunately a few minutes later another member said “Pull over I gotta go now” however at this point we were still within the Farmer’s market in front of Banana Republic and as a civic service we washed their curb down for them…we take pride in our streets in Los Angeles.
We finally headed home after making one last stop…which lead to this conversation in the morning
“My tongue feels like sandpaper”
“That food last night was a bad idea”
“My stomach feels like crap”
“We are never going to Wendy’s after drinking”
Yup that’s right, rather than blame the boozing for the wrecked stomachs we have chosen to blame Wendy’s and their damnable tasty meals. Ciao.
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- Cali J
- Cali-J ueber alles in der Welt. Some think that I am mean; (I call them friends), in fact I am not that mean. What I am is sarcastic and dry to the sandpaper level. I have friends that I have never said a kind word to their face, but I praise to the ends of the earth to anyone I know and will defend them to the end. That’s just how I roll! My boys know that I am down for them, my girls know that no matter what I will keep them safe (and occasionally flirt with them [If you are a female friend of mine and think I haven’t flirted with you it just means you didn’t notice, it was extremely subtle or…not yet ]). No one is safe from my sarcasm even my own parents; hence of course as a kid I spent a significant amount of time in punishment. I treat people with respect if I think they deserve it – everyone starts off with the same amount of respect from me (a lot). You don’t need to earn my respect; you have to keep my respect.