It was a one-and-a-half broken fingernails kind of night.
"Hey, you want to come with me to listen to this guy I used to know back in the day? I have to listen to his stuff for work-related purposes too, but he's totally good, you'll like him. And he's such a sweetheart."
"Sure, when is it?"
"Wednesday night. His set is at 9pm, and goes for an hour."
"Awesome, I'm totally there. Sounds like fun!" And I can still get a full's night sleep and make it to class the next day also.
I mean, y'all know where I'm going here with this.
FAMOUS LAST WORDS (and thoughts).
Really, the night started out with the purest of intentions. One of my fellow classmates used to, and actually still does, work in the music industry. Her exact job, I continually forget. I can never remember precisely what any of my friends do. I feel sort of bad. I think she deals with music licensing? But, she needed to hear this guy whom she knew from when he first started out, who just got signed and was putting out his first album, and why not come with her? Sure, sounded great, I don't do work on Wednesday nights anyway.
The set really was only an hour long, and was awesome. If you have the chance, you should totally check him out. Doesn't hurt that he's super-cute, too. Sort of like Seth Cohen, but a bazillion times cooler and cuter. (Maybe I need to stop making references to characters in TV shows like they're real life people.) And he can sing, and a guy who can sing always wins my heart. (If I were smart like Lux, I'd post an audioclip here, but sorry, it is 6AM and I can't drink a cup of water without spilling it all over myself.) Incidentally, the music group after him (who are so obscure that this is the only website I can find about them)? ERGH. All I have to say is: smoke machine and large Buddha's head candles. I kid you not. We stayed for approximately 0.0000001 second of that act. But anyway, so we went up to the singer afterwards so that my friend could do a little networking, make sure that she got his CD to check out for work, etc.
And the next thing you know, he invited us back to the house where he was crashing, in the hills of Los Feliz.
School vs. adventure. Adventure vs. school.
You know which easily won out.
I'm a little burned out on school anyway.
Good thing I have over four years left. Dammit.
So there was drinking and cooing over the view of LA, which never looks better than from the hills at night. Met some only-in-LA people - a documentary producer who'll be debuting at Cannes and a chef/actor. You've gotta love this city, where else do you meet people like this? I mean, chef/actor. You'll never get slashies like that anywhere else. Drank and schmoozed some more - oh, and did I mention, I was still in my cute skirt I wore to school that day, which really errs more on the side of conservative teacher than rockstar hipster. Oh well. I never do hipster very well, but I can party like a rockstar.
At around 1:30AM, we decided that maybe it was time to get some sleep, since, you know, we wanted to make our noontime commitments, if not our 9AM ones. But then en route home, I decided that we totally needed to get french fries, because really, aren't french fries at their best early in the morning when you're slightly tipsy and have decided that you're going to miss your first class anyway, especially because it's generally boring? Right. Additionally, if you hang out with me, you will soon come to realise that my love of french fries is complete and unabiding. So we went to Mel's on Sunset, given that was the only place either of us could think of off the top of our collective alcohol-addled heads. That or McDonalds.
We settled into a booth and ordered a plate of french fries, plus chicken noodle soup for me and cole slaw for her. And we looked around, snarking on what other people were wearing - girls really skankified out with dresses that covered barely neither their asses nor their pushed up/plastic boobs, guys wearing sunglasses (it hasn't been light out for hours!) and talking on their cell phones nonstop - and we were having a grand ol' time with it. We saw Jessica Simpson walk in avec entourage (her fish lips are still pretty apparent), and saw other people strut around like they were important, when we both realised..
..oh RIGHT, the Grammys had taken place earlier that evening. And oh yeah, these people? Coming from some after-party, or the Grammys themselves. Who knows, it was 2AM.
And you know me, I'm shit at identifying celebrities, and my friend, while better, wasn't doing so well with identifying people herself, otherwise I'd list off the other people we saw. But I also think it was because a lot of these people, while they walked around like they owned the place, were really B-list people or C-list. If that. There was also more bling and boobage and asscheekage than either one of us really needed at that early hour.
(Incidentally, we saw this former Dawson's Creek and Freaks & Geeks actress outside Tangier earlier that night, and gosh, her voice? Totally annoying, and, like, her voice? It's always amazing how people who grew up in Arizona are more Valley than Valley people themselves. And in this small world we live in, she also went to high school with one of my college friends.)
While we might not have been so good identifying people, what we were good at, however, was commenting on the ludicrousness that was this diner at 2AM, which was immortalised on my placemat. By the way, we're both really big dorks, talking about cultural practices and tying in what we were watching with school. Our professors would be so proud of us. But lordy, the cultural practices going on! It was outta control! (We ARE big dorks.)
Oh, yeah, so I also think that I am cooking Valentine's Day dinner for the singer, his manager, my friend, and couple of others before said singer's anti-Valentine's Day show. I really can't quite remember what I promised. I was a little drunk at that point, so we'll see if it actually transpires. My friend's calling around to set things up, I think. But I'm pretty sure it involved me cooking, and them bringing over a lot of alcohol. Rock on. That's my kind of night.