Showing posts with label leftovers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leftovers. Show all posts

of paparazzi and pool parties

If I were interesting enough to merit a paparazzi following, those bushes behind Terence would be the best ones through which to stick a telephoto lens and take unflattering pictures of me (tossing back frozen peach margaritas, sniping at Terence for hogging the guac, debating the merits of Bernie Sanders with Kerry and Ross...). This is as far as we fearsome foursome tend to go out of downtown. But the company and conversation are top-notch, the enchiladas adequately smothered, and as I don't need much more on the weekend than some laughs and some melted cheese, I don't much care what zip code I get them from.

At a certain point one cares less about one's appearance in photos than the fact that one has good friends to take them with. Note I didn't say "one doesn't care at all". Only that one cares less. Oof.

After dinner last Saturday we checked out Echo Park Rising, which is a free weekend festival comprised of local (rock) bands staggered around Echo Park's bars, parks, and restaurants. The music we heard wasn't really our jam, but Kerry (who has a zero tolerance policy for crowds) was a sport and let us drag her around to no less than four different venues before we left - and I count that a smashing success.

Kind of a magical moment: right about the time when we'd all given up on finding a show we'd be into, Terence grabbed my hand and pulled me hopefully into one last bar. Kerry and Ross at my heels, we ducked through a narrow front room that branched into two smaller rooms at the back. One of these had a dance floor, and suddenly, without stopping, without even conferring about whether we wanted to stay, we all started dancing. Pools of colored light moving across the floor, kitschy swing music, and four totally unselfconscious drunk friends. That's the stuff for me, baby.

The place was The Short Stop. I'd never been, but I quite like the vibe and will definitely be back.

Good god, but those flippers of mine are terrifying. When I die they should use my hands for one of those claw machine arcade games. You can all come play and I'll ghost-cheat and make sure you get a toy every time. And no, I have no idea what's going on with my forehead bleeding over the top of the image borders. But if it means I'm actually dead already then someone call Netflix because Ghost Blogger would be a cool-ass show.

Is that not the prettiest alley you've seen so far today? I like to think some romantically-minded rats put those lights up, and that all the other rats downtown come here for their date nights.

This guy, with the dimple and sleepy face. Took me for breakfast to Egg Slut at Grand Central Market (yep, it's worth the wait). Hoping if I play my cards right he'll take me back for lunch soon, too.

My friends Atouzo and Yvonne had a pool party! Like, with sangria and teriyaki meatballs and cabanas and everything! And after I finished taking a selfie in Terence's face mirrors I even socialized with other guests! I wore a "statement necklace" for the first time, which was a stupid thing to do on a 100+ degree day. But as I am not well-versed in the ways of statement necklaces, I did not anticipate how badly my neck would sweat under the weight of a spiky metal collar. So I guess the statement my necklace made that day was: I am a dumbass. 

The night this was taken:

we took the train to Hollywood
we ate dinner at Katsuya
seated at the table behind us were three thuggish guys and a beautiful blonde woman
something happened between these four people and there was drama
the drama involved the woman TRYING TO PHYSICALLY ESCAPE ONE OF THE MEN
that man grabbed her purse out of her hands, so she couldn't leave
two waitresses and a manager got involved
the party was asked to leave
when no one was looking the blonde DUCKED OUT A SIDE DOOR
she then reappeared a few minutes later seeming calm and chill and cool with the situation
Terence had his back to the table and didn't see anything
(I narrated)
we went to a terribly cheesy but terribly fun bar nearby, with books lining the walls
(so this pic was not taken in a library)

recently, 'round here

After-dinner drinks at Casey's with Kross, where I had a White Russian AND a slice of chocolate cream pie, like a boss. Does that look like the face of regret? No, I didn't think so.

When he lays soaking up the sun like this, Terence hums wub-wub-wub like a power grid and calls him a "wub wub worm" and it is basically wonderful, is what I'm trying to say. 

We went to a great warehouse party last weekend, which isn't as exclusive as it sounds since it was listed on Songkick BUT STILL we felt pretty cool about it. The DJs were fantastic and though it was pricey at $30 a head, they didn't oversell it so there was actually room to dance. Chill crowd, neat space (Lot 613), would definitely go again.

This is the spot around the corner from our building where Chaucer plants his ass, completely and utterly refusing to move, and waits for Terence to get off work. For real. Will not budge, no matter how I beg or yell. There are worse creatures to be held hostage by, I suppose, and for worse reasons. 

Ilan Bluestone is an EDM guy I like who's come to Santa Ana a couple times but not LA - until this past Friday! I am not a fan of Exchange, the club where he played, but we found a decent spot to wedge ourselves into and ended up having a not-horrible time at all.

Oh, hai Mom. Yeah, vacuuming would probably be a good idea, since you asked.

Every so often we give in to our MSG cravings and hit up our favorite Chinatown spot, Full House Seafood. (We don't get seafood. We get fried rice.) Afterward we wander around looking for trouble, because it's Chinatown. (We never find any. Everything is always closed.)

We finally checked out Mrs. Fish, the unfortunately named underground bar that opened up near us recently. (Literally underground, not secret underground.) I dig it! Three levels, spacious, tables that don't require bottle service, friendly bartenders, and live music. The kind of place I'd take out-of-town friends, to impress. Hear that, out-of-town friends?? Come let me impress you!

birfdays galore

I've still got the rest of Bonnaroo to get through plus all of Lake Burton, but the album of Random Other Stuff on my phone wants purging...


Chaucer had a birthday! We took him to Venice Beach for a change of scenery and sniffery. I was worried he might be overwhelmed but he was a champ, super curious, sticking his head in every shop and practically dragging us out to the water. Dogs aren't actually allowed on the beach proper, just the boardwalk, but the lifeguard said they don't really enforce it and that it was just his job to tell us. We let Chauc get his paws wet then came back to the boardwalk to people watch and eat pizza.


Ross had a birthday! The four of us got drinks at the Biltmore then had dinner at Redbird, which I'm gonna go ahead and call one the most beautiful restaurants I've seen in LA. It's is in the rectory of the former Vibiana Cathedral, a gorgeously converted space, and if it wasn't desanctified before we got there, it is now if you knowwhumsayin. Avocado salad, shishito peppers, braised goat gemelli, duo of beef, and a whole crispy black bass, sharesies style. Plus two bottles of Lambrusco and cocktails besides. I feel unholy just remembering it.

Terence had the clever idea to see if we couldn't find an old architecture book from the bookstore next to Biltmore, as a present. No dice on that but we found a handful of vintage postcards of DTLA landmarks and historic buildings. Small enough to stick in one of his real architecture books and forget forever.

The terrifying beast above may not have been the brilliant menu selection I promised everyone it would be. (Someone once told me if I ever saw black bass on the menu to order it no matter what.) It tasted good, but it wasn't exactly bulging with meat. Though really it was worth it just to see Kerry's face when Ross ate the eyeballs. 

This is how I will always think of us. Huddled together waiting for an Uber, on our way to the next dining/drinking spot. Love these people so much I can barely deal.


My country had a birthday! Terence was in New York so I kicked it with Krista and her friend Kemi. There was a free event at Grand Park, right up the street, so we took food and Ye Olde Festivale Sheet and picnicked in our patriotic best to some live - if not great - music.

K-bizzle made all the noms. (The label on my pasta salad refers to how she listed herself in my phone when we first started hanging out. She's since learned I'm not the best anything, but it's kind of her to keep up the charade.)


Chaucer likes when I groom him near trees, so the birds can use his fur for nest fluff. He also likes when random strangers ask to take selfies with him.


I can't decide if I love the bar at Ace Hotel or I hate it. It's hipster ground zero, but the view is one of downtown's best and I've got a thing for the elevator operator.


Various and sundries from Villain's Tavern, Casita del Campo, Grand Central Market, and The Precinct: