Monthly Archives: July 2012

Confessions of a Heedless Sinner – Vol. 8

The night started with, “I’m on a spending freeze.”  The night ended at 5:00am on Hollywood Boulevard with a new tattoo.

I wasn’t suppose to be spending anymore money this week.  However, one of my favorite people in Los Angeles, my new friend Josh, asked if I wanted to get a drink.  Who am I kidding?  Yes, yes I do.  It was fine because we went to this dive in my hood where you can get cocktails for $3.50 which is unheard of in Los Angeles.  Excuse me while I give a shout out to the establishment… Frank n’ Hanks!  Yay!  Anyway, whiskey* and conversations about home, (funny we grew up in the same place but met out here) turned into a beautiful bonding session.

Next stop, R Bar.  Money?  What’s that?  The multiple $3.50 cocktails made me forget.

R Bar is this wannabe speakeasy.  I say “wannabe” because I don’t think you can call yourself a speakeasy if you advertise the password on your facebook page.  The password was, “Let my Cameron go!”  I don’t know what this means, but whatever.  It was great inside, and they had this 1920’s theme going on.  The good vibe atmosphere enhanced our good vibe exchange, and next thing you know, we’re in Josh’s car, driving toward Hollywood at 2:00am looking for the first neon sign we see reading, “tattoos.”  Found.  On Hollywood Boulevard of course.  Now may be the appropriate time to add that it was Friday the 13th.

During the drive is when we decided on what we were going to get tattooed.  Using his iPhone, he google imaged some things using keywords appropriate to the night.  1920’s… prohibition… speakeasy…. I don’t know, I was drunk.  The winning search term was, “1920’s flapper cartoon,” and this was what we got:

We named her Cameron.  Remember the password?  *wink*

Inside the tattoo parlor was a man named Steve-O.  Beer belly + missing teeth + stoned + tattoo gun = Steve-O.  Basically, he had all of the criteria to make this night everything it was meant to be.

We had to wait for a good hour before it was our turn, so we definitely sobered up.  I turned to Josh laughing, and asked if he was sure, if this was really happening.  He simply looked at me, gently shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m not scared.”  It was the phrase that made the night.  Those simple words made everything make sense.  Now, we both have this tattoo on our arm that to me, essentially represents not being scared.  Being young and having fun and friendship.  I love it.

We didn’t leave the tattoo shop until 5:00am.

…And it started as such a low-key night.

*new cocktail recipe: “Bitter Diviner” – Jameson, a splash of tonic and orange bitters.  Do it.

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Bitch Be Cool

Here was my weekend:

Was witness to a big black man naked, and crying in the women’s restroom.  I’m one of the manager’s at a popular pub in Hollywood (not as cool as it sounds) and this dude walks in and is TOTALLY NORMAL.  An hour later,  this giant black man is now fully naked, sitting on the toilet in the women’s bathroom with his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth and crying.  What. the. fuck.  Turns out he was on bath salts.

Already drunk in Silverlake, so of course my friend and I decide to get another drink somewhere.  Duh.  We walk up the road to Thirsty Crow.  Line.  Lame.  Keep walking, and go into the next bar we see.  Mexican drag queen show inside.  Yes please!  It happened, and it was brilliant.  Top three sketchiest bars I’ve ever been to.  You know when you mix mexican mafia, drag, alcohol, karaoke and cowboys, that something fantastic is going to go down.

Made-out with a hot Serbian on top of a mountain.

Turned drunk-driving into a sport.  I do not condone this at all!  But with that being said… me and my new favorite girl friend bared our souls to one another over cheap, pink champagne and daiquiris at my place, then decided to drive down Vermont Avenue, in the heart of Koreatown at 1:00am and “see what happens.”  We ended up at a hilarious Korean BBQ place that had no English menu and Korean punk rockers inside.  Fuck yes.  I have no idea what we ordered, we basically said, “bring it on,” to the server who spoke broken English.  I’m a vegetarian, but cheat every three months or so and eat meat, and this was definitely worth the cheat.  I have no idea what animals were on the plates, all I know is that Spam was definitely included.  If I’m going to cheat, I might as well embrace it and go 100% disgusting.

Flat tire.

Waiting in line for the one person restroom at a hookah lounge, and the female of the couple who were obviously on a first or second date sitting next to us, comes up with her hand over her mouth.  Uh oh.  She looks helplessly in my direction when she realizes that she won’t make it into the bathroom.  I give her a helpless look back, and BARF.  All over her hands and arms… got a little on my shoes, but you know, I couldn’t even be mad.  I just went with it.  Poor thing was wearing a white dress too.  Of course, the person in the bathroom was her date, so I just gave him a pat on the back (literally) and said, “Sorry man, but you got to take your girl home.”  I wonder if they’ll ever see each other again.

So, in honor of drunk bitches (including myself), I leave you with a playlist.  This is what you put on when a group of you are at that perfect fun drunk, but there’s that one girl who is just too drunk and being an obnoxious buzz kill.  I know you know the type.  So you raise your glass to her, put this playlist on, and quietly say to her, “bitch be cool.”

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