Hollywood Schmollywood

So, in an effort to "get out there" and broaden my dating horizons, I decided to join MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) so that I could attend their annual party. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I joined for the art too, it's just that the added bonus of exposing myself to new people AND having something worthwhile to do on a Saturday night were the push that I needed to do something I've been wanting/meaning to do anyway for quite some time.

I did the right thing.

I have been bitching and moaning about how "this town", Hollywood, sucks so badly and is not a place for a single woman in her 30's for soooo long. And while it's completely valid and true...all I had to do was drive 2 miles East to solve the problem.

I stopped going out in Hollywood a few years ago when I was standing in what is now Bardot (it used to be the Spider Room) when I realized that every single person there was 10 years younger than me. It was a bad moment. Nobody ever tells you that this is what is going to happen and it is a slap in the face by a cold wet hand let me tell you.

I've dragged myself out for the odd birthday hear and there, or the odd adventure (saw an amazing DJ-Nosaj Thing-one night at some ghetto ass club in Eagle Rock), but other than that, as a personal rule...I just don't go out. There's just nothing it for me at this point. Drinking just for drinking's sake is simply not something that I enjoy anymore...I mean it was fun for about the first 15 years of my post adolescent life, but...after a while...something else needs to happen. I guess this is why people in their 30's do so much coke...I mean...at least it's "something else".

But, a few years ago I was invited to the MOCA party by a guy that I was dating and although he was the worst possible company and did everything in his power to annoy me that night...I still had a great time and I never forgot it. There's nothing quite like walking through a museum with a bunch of people who have a buzz on.

I invited my friend Meg to accompany me on my downtown adventure and I have to say...it was one of the most fun nights I've had in 10 years. Thanks Meg!

Now, due to the fact that I never go out...I do not have any "going out" clothes. This is kind of a problem. I was tempted to buy something, but since I'm about to embark on seven weeks of intense yoga training, I know my body is going to be changing drastically in a few months and I really didn't want to spend the money on something that I know I will never wear again. So, I decided..."F#$% IT!...I'll just wear jeans". I am so glad I changed my mind.

I have this one dress that I bought two xmases ago. It's Electric Blue. I wore it instead.

Two different people had recommended a restaurant downtown called "Bottega Louie" and this is where Meg and I had dinner. SUCH a good choice! The place is HUGE and there are no dividing walls. You can see everyone and everyone can see you. And we were ALL looking, plus, the place pretty much only employs hot dudes (and a few hot chicks as well--but yeah, mostly dudes), so we were immediately happy.

There is nothing more validating than walking into a room full of people and being stared at by everyone. Unless they are staring because you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe, or a booger hanging out of your nose. In Hollywood, people "steal glances" in the hopes that they don't ruin their "cool" facade and actually look interested in something or someone besides themselves, but here, it was very much what "going out" should be. People were interested in what was going on around them and weren't afraid to have a little fun with it. We were no exception.

We each had a Peach Bellini (fresh peach puree!) and we settled in to wait for our table (no reservations). We didn't wait long and the waiting was just as fun as the rest of the night because of all the people watching and flirting that was going on. We were giddy. There's no other way to describe it.

Dinner was pretty good, but if you go to this restaurant, don't bother with the Pork Chops. They were boring. But be sure to try the Portabello Fries. Yum!

After dinner it was off to the Museum. Now, I guess what's so great about these events for me is the people. You've got all different kinds of people. When you live in Hollywood, you kind of forget that there even ARE different kinds of people. There were kids, dudes with dread locks, girls in cocktail dresses (that would be us), moms, dads, hipsters, burnouts, professionals, whatever. And they all have one thing in common. They appreciate art. Not a bad building block for a social situation to have something like art in common with the person standing next to you. And certainly more refreshing than being in a room full of people who are simply desperate to be on television...even if it's just to sell tampons or Viagra.

There was one sad fellow who followed us around all night. An older gentleman who never quite got up the courage to talk to us and who's demeanor was creepy enough that we never initiated conversation with him either...even though we felt bad. Sorry creepy guy...maybe next time.

The art was what you would expect, a little bit brilliant, a little bit over our heads, a little bit unnecessary, and a lot a bit "I coulda done that"...or a dog with paint brushes attached to his feet...either way. I love that about modern art. And clearly, I'm not alone.

At one point a very Tall Dark and Handsome stranger came to enjoy one of the installations with Meg and I (now we're talkin'). I liked his approach: Confident, but not cocky, friendly, easy, and brief. Nice.

We were asked by one dude if he could take our picture. Why yes you can! And throughout the night, about every five minutes or so, someone would complement either my or Meg's dress. Double nice. (I was told by two dudes who claimed to be writers for the LA Times that I would be mentioned in the party review as "The Girl in the Electric Blue Dress"...I haven't seen anything yet, and they could have been bullshitters, but it was nice to hear either way. If I don't see anything by Sunday...I'll assume they were just really drunk).

As the night was coming to an end...or so we thought...we simply had to rest our feet. I hadn't worn heels since October.

We happened to sit next to a group of friendly folks who ended up inviting us to follow them to their next stop. Now here is one of the great things about this night...from start to finish there was never a point where Meg and I disagreed on what the next plan of action was going to be. It was the most smooth sailing I think I've ever had with another person hanging out on a night like this. There was never a time when either of us felt that the other was asking us to do something the other didn't want, or making a choice that hindered something the other person did want. We were so completely on the same page...no coercion necessary. It was nothing short of perfect...ANYHOO!...we decided that it might be fun to keep the night going since it was going so well and we decided to follow them to The Edison.

As we were leaving, the Tall Dark and Handsome stranger from earlier in the night offered me his card. To be continued?.... ;)

Our walk to The Edison had barely gotten underway before I had to take my shoes off. GROSS! But I was crippled by this point. I had been standing in stiletto's for over four hours and no matter how much I want to BE Carrie Bradshaw...alas...I am not...and the shoes came off. So, yeah, I walked downtown Los Angeles with bare feet. Feel free to judge. It was sick.

We were turned away from The Edison because of the the guys in our group was wearing a pair of Chuck Taylor's. Oh well. I get it...and I have to say, I like the idea of a strictly enforced dress code. We've become too casual as it is...I like a place with standards. Which brings us to The Standard, where they wanted us to pay twenty bucks to get in. Yeah, I don't f^@%#& think so.

So, we ended up at The Library Bar, which at this point was as good a place as any. Walking through downtown...well, walking PERIOD was super fun (don't get to do too much of that in Hollywood either), but it was time to hang our hats somewhere. We did a shot of Patron Silver (my suggestion) and settled in. It was refreshing to talk to people who weren't in the entertainment business. One of the guys was a political activist and the other two people...I don't know WHAT they did. And that just goes to show you how much fun we were having-you know-that we didn't even have to get into the whole "what do YOU do?" thing. We talked about music, the old San Francisco DJ scene, politics, and a whole bunch of other stuff...and then (drumroll please)...they offered us mushrooms (sound of record scratch). WHAT? We politely declined. I mean, I'm sorry, but last time I checked, I was wearing a cocktail dress and stiletto's...not a flannel and a pair of Dickie's...is this a camping trip or a Saturday night in the city? MUSHROOMS? Good grief people.

Shortly thereafter they told us of a party that they wanted to go to. Their friends apparently had this great place downtown with a hot tub. Well, I am a SUCKER for a hot tub. You can ask pretty much anyone...if a hot tub is in the mix. I'm not one to be a party pooper. I don't know what my deal is (maybe cause I was born in the 70's?), but I freakin' love hot tubs. Always have. Can't wait to have one of my own someday.

Well, when we got to this "party" it turned out to be just a couple sitting in their living room watching T.V. with their two dogs. Um...where's the hot tub? They lived in an apartment complex and being that they had security on duty, and we were all pretty tipsy (or trippin' on shrooms), there was no way that was gonna happen. So, we had to do "something else"...and that's when they offered us coke. We were still in LA after all...but No Thank You.

So, the night came to an end. But not before one of the girls in the group decided that my hair looked like salt water taffy or something, cause she proceeded to lick it. Um. Buh-bye now.

All in all it was a fun and interesting night. We met a lot of people. And even though this particular group was partying like it was going out of style, they were still fun, intelligent, friendly, and a nice change of pace from the norm.

So, the lesson learned is...LA doesn't suck. There are places where you don't have to be a twenty-something celebrity to be relevant.

And to be fair, I suppose it's possible that Hollywood doesn't suck either, it just depends on what you're into.

I think I'm onto something two miles East.