distractions...: Bollywood!

Saturday night we decided to head to Hollywood with our lovely LA tour guides Jen and Dennis. Since we were still staying in downtown LA, we had to hop on the train and take a short ride to the Hollywood. Fun Fact: Jen and Dennis live down the street from the Capitol Records building with their cat, who is very cordial as well.

One cannot say the same about all of Hollywood's inhabitants. It was a sad day for all young Jewish boys who wear slim fitting jeans and can't hear so good due to standing too close to speakers for so many years.

For this was the day that Sean would be called a "faggot" by a gutterpunk with a cigarette sticking out of his stretched out lip ring hole. It went a little something like this...

We were minding our own business, trying to find Jen and Dennis' apartment when we realized we were going the wrong way down the street. As Sean was straining to read the addresses up ahead, said gutterpunk--a young man himself--probably in his late 20's, approaches with his friend (who I must point out was probably in his late not punk at ALL and who was driving a jeep cherokee). He's bitching about "kids these days," muttering something about how they don't know anything about yadda yadda yadda. Sean is walking a foot or so ahead of me and I hear this guy ask him "Do you remember 1979?" and Sean doesn't answer him, then he says it again "Hey! Do you remeber 1979?" and Sean goes "No." Well, because he was born in 80, so how could he remember it? Gutterpunk does not like this answer very much and replies with a disgusted "Whatever, Faggot!" as he shakes his head (he may have spit, I don't remember. But, for this purpose we'll say that he did) and loads his "art" into his friend's Jeep. The guy seriously couldn't have been more than 30, so I doubt he even remembers 1979. Plus, do Sean and I look like snot nosed little pip squeak know it alls? Or homosexuals for that matter? I of course laughed out loud and shouted, "I always knew you were gay." Sean was oblivious, determined to get us to our destination--we were without our GPS afterall. Pratically naked out there! As soon as we crossed the street and were going the right direction I asked him if he heard the guy call him a faggot. He said he didn't even hear it...but why if he did...that guy would have paid for it! I tell you, his friend would have had to put both seats down in the Jeep and lay him out in the back! Probably not, but let's just pretend he would have.

I didn't get a picture of this villian, but let's just say he looked something like this, but a little taller...less exagerated liberty spikes, really tight leggings, and of course he didn't have this on his jacket, but it's hilarious none the less. (You can make your own right here)

I would say Hollywood is pretty crappy and in general it isn't very pleasing. Also, we saw a dude walking down the street with a full catheter bag taped to his leg which was accentuated even more so by his denim cutoffs but not to be out shined was his total aloofness about the fact that he had a bag full of piss...taped. to. his. leg.

Most of the stores cater to the stripper/exotic dancer/prostitute/skank population and the manequins look like this:

(source)

Besides that, there are suit shops. I'm sure this is all making sense now.

So, after taking in a little window shopping, we filled up on pasta and got ready to drink. Our destination was the Beauty Bar in Hollywood. Sean and I had been wanting to go there and even though Jen and co. had already been there, they were nice enough to go back again!

Cute, right? They have ladies doing manicures and apparently you can get a martini and a manicure for $10. I don't like martinis so I didn't partake in this little deal.

Everything was super retro and just really cute. The photo above is looking at the DJ Booth and the "dance floor." The only bad thing about the place was how crowded it was. Although every time I went out to smoke and there were people walking by, they couldn't believe how packed it was...so I guess it's never as crowded as it was when we were there. However, the people were pretty friendly and surprisingly the hipster factor was way less painful then I thought it would be.

A view of the bar. Funny story--when we first got to this place it was like three people deep at the bar. So, Jen and I hung back while Sean got us drinks. Dennis had to run back to the apartment, so he wasn't there yet. After we had our drinks in hand we were waiting for Sean and I guess it probably looked like we were on the prowl. You know, we must have been just WAITING for a dude to hit on us, because I mean, why else would we be standing there, right? Right. So...I heard the lamest pick up line ever. Not only was it lame, it was very toot your own horn-ish in my opinion. This guy turns to me and asked me if I'm shy. He has an accent and I can't fucking understand him. Jen thinks he says Bi. It's really loud, obviously. He asks again and I just stare at him, knowing this is like the worst trap ever. I decide to throw caution to the wind and I say "no, why do you ask?" And dude says "Well, we've been standing here next to each other for ten minutes and you haven't talked to me yet!" I was so amused, I didn't know what exactly to reply with. I politely explained that we were there with our boyfriends and he looked completely dumbfounded. Now. For the "What I should have said was..." moment. What I should have said was a) you're ugly--but he wasn't. b) I don't like foreigners--but he was British, that's not really foreign. c) I'm really nervous! You're so hot! but...that could have back fired. or d) Oh! I thought you asked if I liked guys! Sorry, I thought that would have been obvious by me NOT talking to you. If I did like guys, I would have been all over you in a second! Men...I tell ya.

I also wanted to tell him to NEVER use that again, but I had already done my charity by not being a total asshole to him, so I just walked away and enjoyed the rest of my night.

All the way past the bar, by the window is where we camped out. There was a plastic covered couch that by the end of the night was covered in drinks, stickiness, and oh yeah...a drunk Indian dude's puke. By the end of the night I also didn't give a crap about any of that because I was having so much fun! The DJ was so good. He played old Marvin Gay, Ol' Dirty, LCD Soundsystem, and like a 1,000 other good songs from rap to indie rock. Jen and I tried to make it out on the dance floor, but decided to retreat back and make our own instead.

When the lights came up, I did not want to leave.