Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The One Where I Ventured to Places Frequently Seen on TMZ…


Published 7/31/2012

I have a college friend who frequently harasses me about why I rarely go to places that are known for being uber trendy, extremely popular or celebrity hangouts. What she fails to understand is that I could go to these ever-changing hotspots  if I wanted to, but after  the initial excitement of living and working in Hollywood subsides, one very quickly loses the desire to go to places that are “super Hollywood” if you yourself are not in fact “super Hollywood.” (Hint: If your IMDB page doesn’t  say “More available on IMDBPro,” you are not “super Hollywood.”)

But alas, one of my dear Tinseltown compadres recently celebrated her birthday and everyone knows that when birthdays are involved, “super Hollywood” is le mode du jour.  So it was with trepidation that I went to Katsuya, home of not-the-greatest sushi, and frequent fixture on TMZ segments of yore.  Cut to finding myself in the midst of the very crowded, very dark, very overrated hive of beautiful people and sake bombs. Thankfully, Katsuya’s heyday has sort of passed so there weren’t swarms of paparazzi outside. The hostesses were lovely but our waiter was sort of a douche, and aside from almost wandering into the kitchen trying to find the bathroom- that door is literally hidden in the wall- we emerged unscathed.

As the night continued we found ourselves at the lounge of the W, mostly because a very amicable security guard told us in no uncertain terms that regardless of how cute we were, we would most certainly stand in the line for Drai’s for an exorbitant amount  of time and be charged twenty dollars because it was after midnight and there was a guy with us. So to the lounge we went, and not five minutes passed before a ridiculous fellow approached my friend and offered to buy the five of us drinks.

This brings me to yet another question my college friend constantly bombards me with:  “Why aren’t you dating anyone?” I’ve mentioned once or twice before that in LA, the nice guys are gay and the straight ones are dicks.  This one was the latter which he proved when he said to my friend’s roommate and I, “I don’t know which one of you is prettier. I guess I’ll just have to sleep with both of you to make up my mind.”  Who. The. Fuck. Says. That? I mean seriously, who?  There are so many things wrong with that statement, but mostly the fact that he said it out loud, and after saying it, looked at us expectantly as if we were in an episode of Entourage and he was Vincent Chase and there was a chance that it would actually happen.  You fail sir. YOU FAIL.

After escaping that sordid affair and witnessing the birthday girl have the most hilarious argument with a cab driver which resulted in him turning OFF the meter and giving us a free ride- miracles do happen- we ended up at Dillon’s. I don’t remember why exactly this happened as we were extremely overdressed and I’m pretty sure Beso was our intended destination. In any event, I felt that I had to at least attempt to redeem myself from the smarmy proposition thrust upon me, so I asked my friend about the cute guy she seemed to know at the bar. “Oh him,” she replied. “He’s a porn star.” That is the point of the night when I gave up on life. So to review: Ugly guys who buy you drinks will blatantly ask to sleep with you and hot guys who are not gay are getting paid to sleep with everybody.  

EVENING SCORECARD:

Venue:  4 (The bathroom at the W is larger… and nicer than my apartment. #firstworldproblems)

Alcohol Situation: 4 (There was free alcohol, but my dignity paid the price.)

Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved: 0

Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 3

Atmosphere: #decent




Tuesday, July 24, 2012

My Best Friend’s Wedding

Published 7/24/2012


Most things in real life are nothing like their movie counterparts, but I was recently tasked with being a bridesmaid in one of my high school friend’s weddings and after the unending treks to David’s Bridal (and subsequent starving to fit into a dress I will never wear again), the rehearsal dinner and the realization that being a member of a wedding party is eerily similar to being a creative assistant (Bring coffee! Send emails! Go to the airport…), it dawned on me that all of the wedding clichés in movies are very, very real.

The Awkward Officiator

Remember the odd priest in The Princess Bride who started the proceedings with “Mawwiage…?”  Since my friend was having a destination wedding, she had to select a church at random and it turns out that people will not just marry you the way you want to be married. There was so much going on during that ceremony that I’m still not entirely convinced I haven’t been converted into some old-timey sect.

The Wedding Crashers

People probably just shouldn’t have outdoor receptions if they want them to remain private. None of the crashers made up elaborate stories about being in traveling family bands or being related to dead cousins twice-removed a la Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, but there were a few randoms and it was so not okay!

Awkward Speeches

Almost every wedding movie has a cringeworthy speech, but few come close to the one Anne Hathaway gave at the rehearsal dinner in Rachel Getting Married. That was painful. Enter the best man and his story of how the bride and groom met. I. WANTED. TO. DIE.

A Touchy Feely Relative

Every time I watch The Best Man I always laugh at the part where Nia Long’s character tells Uncle something-or-other not to fondle her while they dance. I don’t laugh because it’s funny though, as much as because I often find myself in situations that make me wish I was at a work function so I could sue for harassment. I guess in an effort to leave no wedding stone unturned, an older gentleman in the wedding party… made advances towards people, to put it lightly. #fail

Drama In The Bridal Party

So if you haven’t seen Bridesmaids by now you should definitely go do that. Also, please be advised that differences amongst real bridesmaids are no laughing matter. I didn’t resort to stealing puppies or attempting to destroy chocolate fountains, partly because there were no puppies, but mostly because I’ve adopted most of the codes of Hollywood and I choose to fight my battles by ignoring texts and all other manner of passive aggressive subterfuge. But if there had been a chocolate fountain… let me just say I felt Kristen Wiig’s Pain.

Random Hot Hate Sex

There are few things I like about Katherine Heigl, okay there’s nothing I like about her, but she (Aline Brosh McKenna) did perfectly describe the sad dance that is the post-wedding hookup in 27 Dresses. I didn’t actually get that far, but I did do my bridesmaid-ly duty by making out with someone at the dreary “singles table.” This is just what happens when you have an open bar…

There was plenty more marital tomfoolery of every variety that weekend, but it all served to reassure me that if I ever take that leap, and I probably won’t- no one will know. I’m talking season finale of Girls where everyone thinks they’re just going to a garden party. No fuss, no muss. So I guess the moral of this story is that sometimes Lena Dunham knows what she’s talking about. Also, have open bars at your wedding. Just do it.

WEEKEND SCORECARD:

Venue: 5 ( Resort Hotel, beach within walking distance- score! )

Alcohol Situation: 5 ( I’m pretty sure I consumed five different kinds of liquor at the reception.)

Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 4 (I did not pass out and I didn’t punch a certain bridesmaid so yay me! )

Atmosphere: #winning


Monday, July 9, 2012

Son of a (Hermosa) Beach!

Published 7/9/2012


Every Hollywood climber knows that sometimes it can be nice to escape the plastic confines of the city, not have to talk about the industry, and breathe fresh air… sometimes. And sometimes it’s best to stay put and just go to some place in West Hollywood where you will be forced to lie about your career, but at least you know what you’re getting into.

A friend and I recently ventured to Manhattan, partly because our other options were flimsy at best, but mostly because a friend of the  men’s Olympic swimming team told us they  would be there- what can I say?  Quelle surprise- they weren’t there, but we decided to make the best of our roadtrip, which is what any trip from the valley to the beach is.

Unreliable Friend led us to Ocean Bar/Abigaile which on the surface looked nice enough , but if ever there was a venue with an identity crisis, this was it.  Let’s count the disparate themes, shall we.  So the first level  is the Abigaile restaurant which apparently  is also a brewery.  This area in itself had too much going on- there was graffiti on the walls, rustic décor, and the increasingly pervasive mason- jars-instead-of-glasses thing going on.  This is no longer novel, so stop it.

The second level /first level of Ocean Bar is where the confusion really started to manifest- imagine the very college-y vibe of Happy Ending (oh the endless plaid shirts!) but with enough house music to put Ecco out of business. What? That area was packed like a subway, so we escaped to an upper level balcony which  would have been nice if it hadn’t been all the more confusing. It was as if someone had attempted to replicate Skybar, started to make a go of it with the light fixtures, and then halfway through abandoned the idea, threw in some fire pits,  more wooden furniture and forgot to change the dress code.  It was slightly more confusing than the box office gross for Jack and Jill. In any event, my friend and I quickly mumbled some excuse as to why we had to leave but we learned our lesson: don’t go chasing Olympic swimmers because they will decide to go to Drai’s instead.

EVENING SCORECARD:

Venue:  3 (It made Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory design look sane.)

Alcohol Situation: 4

Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved: 1

Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 5

Atmosphere: #meh