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Monday
Andrew and I stop off at North
around 7 p.m. with plans for a quick happy hour cocktail before
heading to the 7:45 showing of Secretary at the Sunset
5. But the cocktails are good, Jeff the bartender is in a
chatty mood, and all of a sudden we're six cocktails in. Thank
goodness there was a 9:45 show. We love happy hour! And James
Spader! (Well, I might be speaking for myself on that one.)
Tuesday
Another night of cocktails and films. Learning our lesson
from the night before, Andrew and I give ourselves ample drinking
time before the 9:30 show. We hit the Good Luck Bar at
7:00 before going to see a film at the Vista (Martin
& Orloff, a selection of the Silver Lake Film Festival).
I had always kind of hated the Good Luck Bar (too many
people, expensive drinks, rude bartenders), but tonight I
find myself enjoying it, as none of those things are apparent.
Alas, the two and a half hours are not enough, so we see the
film (I enjoyed it for what it was, Andrew did not) then return
to the bar for another cocktail. Lo and behold, all the things
I hate about the Good Luck Bar have magically appeared.
Word to
the wise, if you must go to the Good Luck—good
luck.
Wednesday
Catsy and I had tickets to see Julia Sweeney perform her monologue,
so I bravely crossed La Cienega and made my first trip to
Moomba. High on the list in Tammy Tonic's rulebook
is beware of chain bars. And out of all the chain bars to
be avoided is the trendy, expensive chain bar. Moomba began
as some elite nightspot in New York where the likes of Leo,
Gwyneth, and the Hilton sisters would congregate. By the time
it made it to the West Coast, it was a shell of its former
exclusivity, appealing only to desperate heterosexuals looking
for some action in the heart of Boys Town. The following will
be enough said about Moomba. No gin choices. Flat tonic.
Need I go on?
Thursday
Despite the fact that I burned my lip on a Pop Tart earlier
in the day, causing it to puff up in an unbecoming lopsided
Angelina Jolie kind of way, I persevere in my plan to go to
Nacional, one of the newest hip Hollywood hangouts.
After making Andrew wait for 45 minutes while I finish work,
we finally wander over around 8 p.m. and it's all about the
carpet and the velvet rope. Once inside, I feel like I'm in
someone's dingy concrete loft, and since they had no money
to decorate, they hit Ikea and bought themselves some
paper lanterns and faux leather club chairs. That in and of
itself I wouldn't have minded, but when a stick figure in
an olive green uniform with a skirt that's that short
serves me a $10 cocktail, that's where I say bye-bye. After
a tasty sushi dinner at Yamakasa, we decide to have
a nightcap at 3 of Clubs. There, because we recognize
him but aren't quite sure from where, we introduce ourselves
to Alex, who, as it turns out, was the black guy with dreads
that Jon Favreau meets up with at 3 of Clubs in the
movie Swingers. Which is not ironic, but possibly coincidental.
I reminisce about how I once nearly drank a cockroach out
of my glass of whiskey the first time I went to 3 of Clubs,
then we all decide we're too old to stay out past midnight.
I leave my credit card there.
Friday
Catsy, Andrew and I have a nice civilized dinner, drink some
wine, and go see 24 Hour Party People, which is a great
retelling of the Manchester music scene in the 80s. Reliving
the fact that even I thought Joy Division was a depressing
band, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves but as we are not 24
hour party people, or even 12 hour party people, we retire
early. I go back to 3 of Clubs to get my credit card.
I do not have a cocktail.
Saturday
Closing night party for the Silver Lake Film Festival.
The party is in a loft downtown, food by Cuidad and
free booze aplenty. In my guise as a volunteer for the festival,
I serve hors d'oeuvres to everyone, which gives me the pleasure
of walking up to cute strange men and saying "rice ball"?
Pearl vodka is the liquor sponsor and thanks to a well-placed
comment by me earlier in the week, there is plenty of tonic.
Sunday
Catsy and I go see Elvis Costello at the Mayan Theater.
Despite the drunk guy to my left who was grabbing my ass,
the three people to my right who were talking during every
song they didn't know (which was pretty much everything not
on the new album) and the seven-foot tall guy who decided
to plant himself directly in front of us, the show rocked.
The drinks were strong. And I found $5 on the stairs. Not
a bad way to end the week.
Good Luck Bar — 1514 Hillhurst Ave Los Angeles
(323) 666-3524
Moomba — 665 N Robertson Blvd West Hollywood (310)
652-636
Yamakasa Restaurant — 1900 N. Highland Ave. Ste
5 Los Angeles (323) 882-6524
Nacional — 1645 Wilcox Ave Hollywood (323) 962-7712
Three Clubs (Yes, this is the real name, but I reject
it. 3 of Clubs sounds so much better) — 1123 Vine
St Los Angeles (323) 462-6441
The Mayan — 1038 S Hill St Los Angeles (213) 746-4287
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