Beer Pong can help discover cures for blood cancers!

With beers in arms, we’ll combine forces with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and take the fight against blood cancers to their doorsteps.

South
Santa Monica
Sunday, Feb. 28, 2010
4-7 pm

It gets better. By contributing $10 to the war effort, you’ll earn yourself a mark of honor granting you access to an opportunity drawing and these bar specials:

$3 Domestic Drafts
$10 Domestic Pitchers
½ off Wings, Fries and Nachos!

Take up arms for an all out beer pong assault.

$15 for solo players
$25 for 2 player teams

• You get a pitcher of beer for your first game
• Earn a mark of honor to enter into an opportunity drawing and access to bar specials
• The satisfaction of knowing you made an active contribution to supply the front lines in the war against blood cancers.

This is just the beginning, troops! Let’s start off the season with a bang. With Team in Training and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, let’s show cancer no mercy. Be strong in your stride and march towards victory!

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In celebration of a Pre-Pre-Thanksgiving, we’re going to be at Bleu tonight. Why a Pre-Pre and not just a Pre? Well let’s face it, when the day ends Wednesday, everyone’s going to be in a mad rush to get home in a furious cavalcade for the Thanksgiving finish. So why not take our sweet ass merry ol’ time and enjoy tonight for what it is.

Tuesday.

C’mon like we really need a reason to go out on a Tuesday?

Bring your drinking shoes and singing souls. We’ll feast our minds and hearts on good times.

My face was firmly planted in the couch. I moved my eyes as far as I could to peer at the clock and saw that it was almost 10:15 pm. Sketch said he’d be popping by at that time to go to a fundraiser involving playboy bunnies and karaoke. You’d think I’d be excited about that prospect alone, two quintessential things coming together to form a robotic tour de force of mechanical lion sweetness.

Nope.

I was happy on the couch.

I’ve been suffering from mild fatigue so I’ve been sluggish and the couch had me in its warm embrace.

Sketch showed up and since I committed to the event, I peeled my face off the couch and we drove down to a ghost town of a street. There was hardly any traffic, all the shops were closed – it was very eerie. I expected zombies to come trudging out from behind the corner and me with no weapon; we would have been brain flambe. The only sounds came from the bar we were headed to and once we got inside we were greeted by platinum blonds, tiny skirts and sake shots. Admittedly, we totally did sake a bad deal and tossed them down like bad whiskey, but in all fairness, two did the trick to get me primed to sing a song when the lights came on.

It was time to go home. Vanessa, our French Canadian server was a doll and humored us so we pulled in one more round just for her and then stepped out into the quiet to find out what our next destination was. Our friend at Maloney’s wasn’t working and due to an intense craving for Ariza’s we called up our Silver Lake resident and with a little nudge and her brokering out of a glass of wine she agreed to meet up with us at El Prado to indulge in more beer and then ultimately, Ariza’s.

The night almost took a nose dive when we walked out of El Prado and turned the corner only to find the street normally vacated by the Ariza’s Taco trailer empty. At first I thought I was seeing things. Not seeing the trailer there, well I’ve never not seen the trailer there, was heartbreaking. Sketch has been witness to its great escapes before, but for me, it was like removing the top off a girl and not being greeted by her mammarian friends. We stood there stunned. It wasn’t even go time and they definitely went a go. Luckily for us, our Echo Park guide took us to the next best thing. Taco Zone.

Don’t be fooled by the name. It’s the real deal. Their creamy green sauce, which really wasn’t your standard fair verde, made for an extra kick of flavor that made my medley of lengua on tortilla a delight. I’m not kidding, there was no regret on my end for missing Ariza’s truck. But then again, I was pretty buzzed and day old taco bell would have been divine.

This week has been a bit nutty and will continue to be, so much that we had an email thread going around to list and prioritize what events were going on with which ones to take and which ones to ditch. Social event triage if you will.

I lucked out and had a friend go to USC to pick up race packets for me instead of cutting out at work to fight through the nightmare trek I heard it was in getting over there so I’m really grateful that I didn’t have to go. Nike+ is tonight and even though I know I’m going to have fun, this race has proven to be very inconvenient in all sorts of ways.

It was my friend’s birthday yesterday at the Melting Pot in Pasadena and although she really wanted me to go, I didn’t want to. Her social circle is so broken and blasted that even handling that crowd is a nightmare. To put it simply, she’s a really cool girl who happens to be ridiculously cute. She was recruited by the hot girl group AKA bitches from hell and got sucked into their life draining drama shit show. Her “friends” are simply obligatory social status totems carried around big events; they’re the hot girl group all the guys wanna fuck at the party or club, but they’re no where near good friends and would soon rather scratch each others’ eyes out and fake friend it up than actually be there for each other. It’s sick. Throw in my history with her and you have a recipe for some mother fuckin disaster. So I did what I had to do. I called in a big gun arm candy to play leverage. I know this all sounds cryptic and I apologize. Long story short: I called in my good looking female friend to play the “is-she-the-girlfriend-card” and toil mysterious magicks, while playing nice with the others so that I can be removed from the drama, have an alibi and escape plan and wean any thoughts of ulterior motives of me showing up alone. It’s all politics. I know, way too much drama and micromanaging for social circles, I swear to pieces I’ll explain these tidbits in detail one day in a book. But for now, just know that I have some really, complex people in my life.

Luckily for me, my recruitment is top notch and my right hand woman did it up so well she had the men up in full swoon and the girls asking questions about my relationship with her. She’s so perfect at this, “Oh, I dunno, we don’t talk about it much, but, ya know, it is what it is.” Beautiful. We used the El Rey and a showtime to ditch the party and ended up at Arizas. It was an awesome detour, we were hungry and could definitely eat. She snagged an al pastor quesadilla and I picked up an al pastor taco and a lengua taco – divine!

We met up with Sketch at The Room where I had just missed SoSuperSam spinning. Literally by like a minute according to Sketch. It was that damned parking, we must have spent 20 minutes looking for parking, I busted a seemingly illegal U right in front of a cop, totally thought I was toast as I looked right at him, but he just drove away – score! Then I spent some more time regretting not taking a spot that I thought wasn’t a spot but upon closer inspection, totally was a spot.

The Room – Hollywood
1626 N Cahuenga Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90189
(323) 462-7196
theroom-hollywood.com

The venue is small but nice. The prices are stiff, but the pour is deep. The event we attended goes on once a month and according to the bartender, it’s usually dead on the weekdays. It’s located on Cahuenga two doors south from the Beauty Bar. The music last night was hip hop, urban funk/soul and the crowd was the same accordingly.

We ended the evening at the “Western” Denny’s. Jess joined us and we discussed meat eaters, Paranormal Activity and weird dreams to the backdrop of giant trannies, and boy-men who insisted on eating in nothing but their underoos. I didn’t crawl into bed until 4:30 this morning. Surprisingly, I’m ok – but ask me again in 3 hours.

Time couldn’t have been any slower than it was yesterday. Watching the time tick at what seemed like half the pace of slower than slow was torturous. That uneasy, antsy, nervous energy that makes you shake your leg in unimpeded pedi-strokes makes the trek through the time shift of forever feel forlorn in unforgotten futility.

Fast Forward. Emosweater was standing by his car as mine pulled up, I lucked out and sniped a parking spot in the wonky plaza where Good Microbrew & Grill sat. All he had to do was make mention of $3 beers and flash me a photo of a burger with a halo of crispy fried cheese singing praises of wonderment to make me strong arm through that nasty 10/110/101 orgy of fat traffic and see for myself. My stomach was whimpering its fugliness that feeding time was due hours ago so there was high priority in me kicking its face in with a good old fashioned burger.

We were two of five and the hostess, who refused to seat us because the rest of the party wasn’t present suggested we romp a tiny table and musical chairs our way up and play table tango until the rest of the team arrived. The five of us were finally there to combine our lionbots and have a Voltron of a time.

Four rounds of mystery beers and an Exorcism Burger later we time lapsed the night time streets to El Prado where we indulged in playing guessing games with the bartender, let the ladies ladle wine and lounge in leisure while the men decided crafty beers and clinky cheers were standard fair for our nightly affairs.

With Ariza sitting in our stomachs and sobering up in parking lot parties the night time ne’rdowells did nothing but needfully bring time to its knees. Emosweater literally got shit on his pants from prancing too close to porta potties and a decision came my way that peeing between two cars is cover enough to make me go camouflage.

Congratulations this is our 100th post.

We realize it’s Wednesday, but Adventure Tuesday typically ends on Wednesday morning. Sometimes spontaneous and random things happen on Tuesday night. There’s also a good chance that nothing happens. So last night?

Things have been more of an inner adventure. I found myself discovering a missing piece to a puzzle that I’ve been trying to put together lately. Not literally a puzzle, but, you’d think that you were prepared for something, only to find out you weren’t prepared at all. So it’s a good thing I discovered this missing piece, or I’d be farther behind than I thought.

Imagine my surprise, waking up this morning to an email sent at 2:56 am from Sketch that he’s staying an extra day in Vegas. He’s supposed to be flying back tonight, but he said he booked another flight back to Vegas after being in San Francisco to stay another night with a super hot DJ friend of his so he can indulge in more free table service, pool parties with bikini clad go go dancers, music, mayhem, lights, camera and mother fuckin action.

My eyes are barely open, I’m reading this email with one eye open – I guess reading with both eyes is just too much to ask for in the wee morning hours – and I’m thinking to myself, this mother fucker! Anger? No not at all, just total and complete peanut butter and jealousy.

I don’t get jealous. Ask my ex-girlwhatevers, I don’t get jealous. But Mr. Sketch, to thee I say, I am fuckin stomp my feet and whine like a little school girl jealous.