August 3, 2005
[oh, the weekend] 5:42 AM
friday
I make my way to Los Feliz to see a new musical: Ann E. Wrecksick: The Odyssey of the Bulimic Orphans, a hysterical yet overly long pardoy of Annie. The play itself is humerous, at times genius, but the real joy of the night was the overall experience. The play was performed in the basement of a mexican restaurant (drinks allowed below, food is not) to a sold out audience of 30-or-so twentysomethings, most of whom seemed to know a cast member (myself included). Oh, and Garry Marshall. Garry Marshall was there. Even when he was standing next to me in the line for the bathroom at intermission, I kept myself in check (which was really hard, given the amount of Murphy Browns I've been watching lately), however never underestimate drunk girls and their obscene obliviousness. The "don't I know you from somewhere" conversation I was privvy too was painful.
After the play I made my way home, walked down two blocks to Jones' for my friend Nick's birthday, and then lady strolled down to iCandy — which is a new bar and not at all related to Apple. It was nice, a very mixed crowd. I get hammered.
saturday
Every saturday Cinespia puts on a movie night at the Hollywood Forever cemetary. You picnic outside at sunset, then make your way to the screening green (grave free) in the cemetary, and hunker down to watch a film (a DJ plays a set before and after the show). You can bring whatever food and drink you want, and for $10 and six hours, you have a blast ... in a graveyard.
The week before it was Breakfast at Tiffany's, this week it was Carrie. A case of beer, some BBQ, and a towel, and i was set. I spent part of the movie flat on my back starring at the stars listening to Sissy get ridiculed, and after the film was done I demonstrated how lumbering zombies should dance.
Whoever decided to put Purell in port-o-potties gets a Nobel Prize. With glitter on it.
sunday
Cassie's birthday! After a day of flea-marketing with Peter, I drive down to Santa Monica to partake in mexican food and margaritas. Jack, being all of 18 months, had a similar idea and was covertly stealing limes from people's unattended drinks.
Thankfully Mommy's british, and therefore the genetic code for holding liquor was passed down. He slept well and wasn't the worse for wear at all the next day. Everyone else ... well ... I slept a lot monday.
Hi, K. I wrote you an email some days ago... can you check your junk mail folder, please? Cheers!
J.
