early evening Saturday:
It was just an ordinary Saturday night. I’d gotten a phone call about 6pm to ask if I wanted to go to a show in Anaheim. It wouldn’t have been gridlock, but I would have been fashionably late.
I’d heard about a party for a friend but wasn’t sure if I was going to go to that either: +1 me anyone? I have that strange thing called manners and didn’t just want to assume it was cool to attend. I also waste time worrying occasionally.
I sent a tweet asking which of the beautiful people wanted to hang out. It was only partially shallow. Perhaps that beautiful girl I spent my Friday evening with would grace my evening again. I’d missed her message earlier in the afternoon. I should have given her my number. I should have gotten her number. I have other means of contacting her. Ah thank you digital age. Why do some girls turn me into a chicken?
My roommate leaves to go hang out with some friends of ours to play video games and drink. I’m more than welcome to attend. However I’m on this “I’ve been playing video games all day & it’s a weekend so I don’t want to go out to do something I could essentially be doing at home” kick. That and something was overheard that I didn’t appreciate
“Either start resisting her or make her give you sex…”
Not cool. I don’t care if you’re kidding or not. But what the fuck ever. I told him I was done talking to them. Give me a couple of days and I’d have been over it. I’m allowed to silently overreact and do nothing at the same right? I’ll use the “I have a vagina” excuse.
A friend whom had been traveling messages me to call him. He hadn’t seen me in awhile and was wondering what I’d been up to. We did some catching up. There’s something to be said about a person with as much passion as my friend Wmmarc. We talked about his travels and my recent rendezvous. Or um.. the ones I don’t talk about. ::Big wink::
“I really want to go to SF again. It’s been a long time.”
“Well maybe you can take the drive up with me sometime when I go again.”
Indeed. Saying no to a trip to SF with my personal photographer? Photographic evidence of debauchery? Oh so tempting. (To be continued)
I’m still milling over what I’m going to do for the evening. I’m being a shithead. It’s not like I didn’t have options. I nearly went to San Diego for the day. Someone, somewhere had to have something going on. And if not, I was going to go on an adventure of my own. Hell I have mace and I wear heels. I can hold my own if a clown tries to mug me.
I got a text from a friend asking if I was going to the party I’d heard about for the past week. A formal invitation. Silly, the friend hosting it had no problem with me going. I worry too much over nothing and occasionally repeat myself. I haven’t seen the usual suspects in about a month or so. I felt like a blip on the social radar… or at least with that circle.
“Text me when you’re on your way.”
Yes, I’m that girl that goes through 10 outfits to pick the first one I tried on. Once upon a time I wore that top and it gave the illusion I had breasts. And then the past year happened. Real women have curves? Just call me boobzilla. The ladies looked fabulous. I got a second opinion and headed out the door- I’ll be damned if I was going to arrive earlier than late enough to be fashionably late.
It took a few tries to start the beast. Silly me, I had a feeling that I should gas up before hitting the freeway. It only said 6 miles on google maps. I’m sure I’m fine.
My music was on too loud. The windows were down. I hit the 10 and I’m cruising. I may even be a bit earlier than I thought. I forgot my smokes. Damnit. I can pick up some more if I see a gas station. No big deal. You’d think maybe someone was trying to tell me something or something.
Yeah so now I’m on the Fairfax exit sitting there because of course I ran out of gas. Damnit damnit damnit. Where the fuck are the hazards? Hell if I know in Rob’s truck.
I tried repeatedly to start the damn thing. All I need is just a little kick to get to a gas station. Not being overly religious/brainwashed I call upon the powers of the Schwartz.
Come on Schwartz. Come on Schwartz.
Epic fail. It’s still not starting. Oh and that button I thought would be the hazards? It’s the wipers which of course also won’t turn off now.
I’m texting white knights. Someone please save my dumb ass right now or at least get me to that party so I can deal with the truck later. I’m far too sober for this.
My roommate is in Marina Del Rey. He has AAA but would have to be here for them to do anything for me. He’s 25 mins away. It’ll take them another 20 to get to me. Awesome. Gotta love LA.
A random hot girl knocks on my window as I’m still parked on the damn off ramp. She apologizes for not stopping sooner.
“Let’s get the truck over to the side. I’ll grab a guy and we’ll push you. Just stay inside and steer.”
She asks where I had been going and said she wishes she could have done more. No one carries a gas can in their car. Then again most people have cars where their gage works so they don’t need to.
She asks me what happened and I explain.
“I was heading to a party and just ran out of gas. It’s nothing major, but welcome to LA right?”
She tells me she’s also new to the city. She’s from San Francisco. There was a moment of just gazing back and forth. Damnit why am I such a chickenshit with beautiful women? I should have gotten her number. I didn’t think it was the appropriate circumstance or hell, I’d have brought her to the party. Maybe one night I should fake car trouble. Oh look I dropped my pen… damsel in distress.
I have 2 men at the party ready and willing (ha double entendre) or at very least telling me that they were) to go and find me some help.
“I’m standing at my car right now, just let me know if you need me and I’m on my way.”
Did I mention I hate asking for help? Because I do.
I’m standing outside my car looking a bit bummed. Gotta love my luck and horrific planning. I’m having a “you should have known better moment…”
I’m on the phone with one of these white knights when a couple of rebels pull up.
“We’ll tow you to a gas station. Just try and start it and put it in neutral so we can get it on the lift.”
Wouldn’t you know it the asshole truck started right up then. Mother of ::insert explicative ninja’d by Faarbot*::
Bonus points if you get that joke and legitimately know what it’s in reference to.
Super bonus points if you’re an articulate, savy and successful artist/geek.
Super super bonus points if you live and/or have no problem traveling back and forth to/want to use airline miles to send a beautiful nerd girl from LA to another amazing city.
“I’m fixing to steal an Audi a few blocks from here.”
I always did think the whole idea of repo men was a bit hot. They’re a different kind of calculated prowler than me, but we’re still one and the same; me- out and about wondering where the next blog fodder will pop up, them- stealing cars for a living.
“Three people asked me to tow their cars before I saw you.” he says as he laughs.
Yes, that means I got in the car with 2 random strangers. As Michael Pilla told me later that night:
“This sounds like the plot of a horror movie or a porno.. either way, you’re fucked…”
Should I not be admitting that I have hitchhiked on purpose without a car trouble related situation quite a few times already? Oops. Apparently I fail then.
“I’m a country boy.. That car is hot but with you in it, its that much hotter..”
Yeah, I told you my tits looked fabulous in that top.
I’m finally on the way to the party. The doorman thought I was 18. When I told him that I’d birthed 3 kids he was shocked. No one seems to believe that when they see me. Horray for daddy’s genetics and Wii fit.
I find my friends and the party goes on as only the usual suspects can possibly entertain. Nicole looked amazing. It’s hard to believe that she’s what 27? 28? Is it wrong that I’d forgotten? Again, did I mention she looked fabulous? Seriously.
I’d never been to that club before. I’m still learning the city prowl. The regular set of friends doesn’t seem to be into the whole club/bar/socialite crawl. It’s not a big deal but.. well I already talked about that didn’t I?
i don’t remember what time it was because I’m not interested in the time anymore:
I’m telling my friends about what happened on the way to the party. I can’t believe its been nearly a month since I’ve seen some of them. Someone smacks me on the ass and I giggle.
“What just happened?”
“Oh someone just smacked my ass.”
“Random ass smacking you say?”
“Sure.” I say with a wink. (Yes I know exactly who it was by the way)
So there’s this guy I’ve been talking to off and on for the better part of at least a year now. His doppleganger walks by and I mentioned it to the immediate circle that this guy caught my eye. I know most everyone in attendance here, but where the hell did he come from? I had just mentioned on the phone earlier that there needed to be more hot single men in our group.
I’d rather be chased and do the chasing. I knew I was going to make a way to talk to him somehow. The guys just made it easier for me.
“You look like someone we know.. who are you?” they said as they pulled him over.
It’s great to have wingmen. I owe you a drink boys. I didn’t pick him up. I just picked him out.
We sat and talked for a good portion of the party. Video games. Twitter. 2.0. Where do I fit in here. A little about him. A little about me. Etcetera, etcetera etcetera.
If you’re reading this, know that I did catch you looking down a few times. I believe I said that I noticed but I really did enjoy the introduction so some words may have escaped me. I could have gone for hours. Take that as you will.
He’s not from around here unfortunately. From the bay area. He asked me how far I am from LAX. I told him 20 minutes. More like 10 with no traffic, but I neglected to mention that at the time. Damnit I cockblocked myself.
He kissed me. On the scale of 1 to 10 with kissing, I’d say it was…
I’m all about passionate kisses in the moonlight in public places.
“I’m glad that I met you. I didn’t expect to meet anyone tonight, let alone such a great kisser.”
I blushed. Perhaps I’m cuter when I don’t try. I’m glad I met him as well. He was like an unexpected phantom.. the wildcard.
I should have brought him home with me like a souvenir or pulled him into a bathroom. I hesitated. I masterbated. It wouldn’t have been the first time. There’s something to be said about sex in public. But there’s still time. Thank you digital age once again.
3am (yes I’m noticing the time again as now they’re kicking us out of the club):
I’d had a little bit of time with a newly single hot gent. Yes a different one.
I think the doppleganger was on a bit of sensory overload. There were a lot of pretty girls there. A blonde in a blue dress. A stereotypical hipster cliche. Hey whatever turns you on. Personally I’d have gone with the black haired girl in the yellow dress with the bubble skirt hemline. But we’ve already established my problem approaching women.
I didn’t go to the afterparty. I elected to just go home. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps not.
“Off the record- you are extremely cute btw. I wanted to tell you that before but didn’t feel was appropriate at the time”
“Let me know when its on the record.”
Dirty words exchanged.
Etcetera Etcetera Etcetera.
I went to bed naked as usual. A little more motivation to finish my night off before passing out on the raptor cloud that is my bed.
I checked my messages. Probably the best written introduction I’ve received from a gent so far. Kudos on that one sir.
All in all… I can’t complain. Ah today sounds like a good day to go beaching. I’m good on gas now. Maybe I can have a chance encounter. Will it be with you?