weekend snippets

This is Friday afternoon's view from the sushi restaurant and bar on the 21st floor of a building a few blocks from where I live:

It took me a while to make it up to Takami, but I've been twice now, and I can attest to the foolishness of that delay. The place is great. Food's wonderful (perfect, bite-size crispy rice with tuna, melt-in-yer-mouth yellowtail, and their garlic edamame is like crack) and as you can see there's a pretty view of downtown from the deck.

But what really made those visits was going with New Neighbor Friend, who is like royalty up there. It's her Cheers, but writ tiny. Like, seven barstools tiny. NNF, incidentally, is pretty bomb-awesome. We've only hung out a few times so far but all signs point to her having a big, fat, open heart and lots of warmth for the people in her life. It's not hard to see why they literally cheer when she walks in. So yeah, Takami is kinda next level in her company, but the bartenders, regardless, are some of the nicest I've met ever, never mind in LA. Super friendly, engaging crew up there, A-plus, would and will return. Should you make it up there yourself, ask R.C. to make you a time and place shot. Fun, fun.


This is what Friday night looks like, when you drunkenly challenge your girl Kerrbear to a height-off, because for some reason you've been under the impression you're taller than her, when no, dumbass, you're clearly not:

And if the number of drinks on the table don't explain whatever it is her husband and I are doing in the pic above, well then I don't know. It looks like Christmas, but it's just La Cita. There are dive bars in DTLA and then there are dive bars. La Cita is the latter. And that's not a knock! I love the place. Spacious, dimly-lit patio and a trashtastic, sweaty dance floor in front of a stage that actually gets some pretty good acts. I saw a band called Psychic Friend there years ago that played this catchy-as-heck track:

The four of us had another long night culminating in a trip back to Pacific Dining Car, which gets my vote for Place Most Likely To Be Hiding Hungry, Cheating Celebrities, though I am usually too busy getting my Huevos Rancheros on to thoroughly investigate. If you go, ask to sit in the bar area (it's a little bit brighter, but much cozier).


This is Saturday afternoon's lookup from the area beside the library, behind the Hilton, brought to you by the dog who for some reason loves to wander around back there:

Yeah, that guy. There's hardly anyone up there on weekdays and weekends it's a ghost town. So that long stretch of open space is a good place to practice sit-stay-wait-come!, which, as you can see, his Winkiness has down. We are still working on no-no-don't-eat-the-pizza-crust-someone-left-on-the-ground.


This is McConnell's Fine Ice Cream in Grand Central Market, where I stopped Saturday night to pick up a pint of Salted Caramel Chip for dinner at Kross's:

The pint cost nine dollars. It was my first taste of McConnell's, where the line tends to be a discouraging several dozen people long. Now I understand both the cost and the line. If I was high I would probably pay $18. Maybe even $25. The stuff is fucking unreal.

Kross grilled burgers and corn on the roof while I supervised (read: played with the cats) and drank cherry cider. I'm at the stage where every day I'm expecting word that they're outtie, finally heading to SF. It's the awfullest torture, waiting for the axe to fall - which it will, sooner than later. In the meantime I'm just trying to feel grateful for what I get, and what I've gotten. Freakin' love those two to bits.


This is a stretch of abandoned bar at Peking Tavern, on Sunday night:

We caught some of The Oscars from a cozy booth against the wall, where I made an exception of my No Same Side Sitting (barf) rule, because Academy Awards. Rather Terence caught some which he helpfully narrated, because I am blind as shit. Though I did a right good job of locating the dumplings on the table!

Then had him take a selfie of us but hid my face, because logic.

Awards shows are not really my bag. Artists and performers of all genres certainly deserve recognition from their peers, but the excess and superficiality and hype kind of skeeve me out. Plus all I can think of when I see some young actress accepting an award is all the other ingenues everyone OMGLOVED but didn't think much about once Hollywood had chewed them up and spit them out. Also, this Twitter exchange between Andy Richter and Danny Zuker is pure win:

I was happy Eddie Redmayne won, though.