strolling down sunset boulevard

''
amongst the short skirts and the escalades and the hustler store and your veritable pick of trendy sunset strip watering holes and shitty clubs is the last place you'd find me on a saturday night. or any night. but tonight after seeing mike play on our way to the ten dollar lot where we parked we found a set of keys on the ground right in front of frankie and johnny's. the car key was for a mercury le sabre, which happened to be right there. we asked the guys hanging out on the corner if they knew who owned the car, and turns out that it was one of theirs. frankie then invited us in for a round of beers on him for returning his pal's keys.


a group of uniformed police officers came in and were socializing with a group of little people at a table. earlier in the day was a basketball game between the west hollywood sheriff's department and the little persons' league team. throw in some more drunk cops, hobbit jokes and a scuffle and you have an episode of reno 911.



speaking of beer the other night we went bar hopping on main street in santa monica. (insert WESTSIIIIDE! here, accent on the SIIIIDE!) we finally chose the circle bar as the place to be. it's the most dive place on main (which isn't saying much) and we weren't feeling the fratboy-music-blasting sports bars and pubs. the last time we were here we saw luke wilson. there's your fucking LA name drop, suck it in. we sat at a corner table, and jokingly i say to mike above the din,

"WE GOT YOU A GUINNESS!" we didn't get him a guinness.
"WHAT?"
"WE GOT YOU A FUCKING GUINNESS!" (mike hates guinness. as do i.)
this scraggly deathmetally-looking guy whom we just noticed and who happened to be sitting awkwardly at the end of our table looks directly at us and says, "WHAT??"
confused, i say, "NOTHING! I JUST TOLD MIKE THAT HE'S DRINKING GUINNESS TONIGHT!"
"NO," our scraggly friend explains, "MY NAME IS SAM GUINNESS! NICE TO MEET YOU!"

but no, sam guinness isn't the highlight of the evening. nay, the highlight was the gay dentist trying to get in my pants and his ambiguously gay friend hitting on lee at the bar. let me premise this by saying that i don't know what it is that made gay dentist (from now on referred to as GD) think that i might be of the same persuasion as himself. oh wait, yes i do. BECAUSE I WAS DRINKING A FUCKING MIMOSA. there. i said it. so GD sits with us and is being overly chummy. among the many things he does is pour whatever he was drinking into our glasses when we were empty, and whilst doing that, clumsily spilling alcohol all over us. to gauge whether i was on the same wavelength as he was he turns up the dial on the hyper-masculine-i-wanna-get-on-every-lady-in-the-house-o-meter to see if i'd respond with a subtle WOMEN DISGUST ME! YOU FIGURED ME OUT! for example,

"awww yeaah, look at that mom over there. she wants to party, that belt fucking screams i want to get down. hey let's play rock paper scissors and loser has to roll up! awww yeaah!" (insert high fives)

'roll up.' fascinating. you know he felt like a dick for selling himself and the other sex out like that. you could hear the guilt and see it too. anyway GD provides more amusement, especially when he moves on from me to mike, who still thinks that GD was not of the gay. last call comes and we're all kicked out, and by this time GD won't remember anything in the morning. our last memory of GD is him asking lee to punch his friend in the genitals. she doesn't do it (she wanted to ), as we walk away we hear him drunkenly proposition homeless passersby, "HEY! I'LL GIVE YOU TEN BUCKS IF YOU PUNCH MY FRIEND IN THE BALLS!" what a pal.



in closing, as of ten days ago, we moved out of our apartment. packing was difficult, parting with roommates, neighbors, and westwood even more so.


goodnight.