OOOHHH Julia Roberts would be so proud.
I’ve talked about this before on the site, but after my night last night I GENUINELY cannot believe how rampant the problem is.
Hold on … here’s the song that goes with the post …
So, last night, I grabbed burgers with my buddy @bernardosays over at 25 degrees inside the Roosevelt. It’s a pretty tight spot, good ambiance, AHHHHMAAAAZZZINNNNGGGGG burgers – totally can’t complain.
We kicked it for a bit getting our grub on (I freaking LOVE Bernardo! We don’t get to hang out very often, but when we do – good times are always had), then I told him I had to peace in the middle east to head over to Happy Endings on Sunset to meet up with this dude.
I then walked down Orange from Hollywood and got the usual hoots and hollas from the dudes. One guy was SUPER sweet and even pulled over saying, where are you going tonight beautiful? See, now if I didn’t already have plans I prolly would have kicked it with those dudes. Be nice, man – don’t just cat call chickadees when you see one you like walk by. Picking someone up outside of a bar is a skill, some people got it, others no bueno.
I then got over to Happy Endings and to my delight two of my buddies were working.
<tangent> Crazy small world, but one of the bartenders Kat used to be my neighbor. She was also in that film that I did with Ron Jeremy which is what lead to getting this voicemail from him …
Kat is great, and takes really rad pictures. Very talented chiquita banana.
I hung out with her for a hot minute before my friend arrived. We chatted for a bit about life, love, and all things online dating. Then around my second drink I had to pop the seal. I walked over to the restroom getting myself situated, and what do I see in the stall next to me?
Seconds later I hear the unmistakable sound of coke being snorted.
REALLY? REALLY? I think. It’s 10pm at HAPPY ENDINGS the trendiest/we wish we were still a dive/ dive bar.
You KNOW you have a problem with coke if you’re doing it in the bathroom stall at Happy Endings. Sure, coke here or there at a club (FTR, coke is not my thing) is a CONSTANT. But you’re doing coke at a fucking dive? WOOOOOWWWW. Rehab, line one. Rehab, line one.
<tangent> I remember the first time I was exposed to coke was when I was like, 19 or 20, and at Cabana club. I was sitting at a table with this group of people I had just met and LITERALLY on my fucking LAP they all started snorting the shit. I was like … REALLY? REALLY? I’m not mad at drugs, I think they have their time and place for spiritual purposes … but to be that open with things recreationally is just awkward. Slow your roll, bitches. And at LEAST if you’re going to do lines off of someone’s lap make sure they’re cool with it. </tangent>
I then washed my hands and waited for the girls to come out of the stall. Seconds later they did, and they were both high as fucking kites jittering and talking 1,000 miles a minute.
I then walked back to the booth and told my buddy what I saw.
Dude, let’s go make friends.
He laughs as the girls hit the dance floor.
Well, I do like to dance …
We then began tearing up the dance floor to TLC’s Waterfalls.
Bless the days where hip hop had a purpose. Wait, is TLC considered hip hop? Are they R&B? Pop? #confused
Our new friends sadly didn’t resonate with our AWESOME moves, so shortly later we left to hit up the Woods.
We were fortunate at that hour to get a booth so we got to lay back and hang for a minute. Then, this hipster chickadee approached us and asked if her and her SEVEN friends could sit with us.
If they’re all anorexic, yes. He replied.
No, but I mean can’t you guys scooch down? she said
Where would you like us to “scooch” to, I replied back. (Mind you we had enough for one maybe TWO people, but even then we’d totally be squished, and right now we were both comfortably kosher.)
You’re fiesty, she said. I like you.
My face smiled, but my head said – suck it Trebek.
She got the picture at that point and then left us alone.
I then bid my friend adieu as I was starting to fade. I then proceeded to walk down Sunset heading back home.
Minutes later, I passed the exact spot where I got hit in the head with the brick a little over two months ago.
Instead of being fearful of walking on that side of the street I decided to celebrate the spot by doing a little dance.
I then pulled up my 90s playlist on Spotify and for exactly 45 seconds jammed to this …
Amazing! Take that PTSD!! My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns hun!!
So that happened. And felt freaking GREAT!!!
I then continued down the street a bit, and noticed these cars stopping for me.
They would pull up about 50 yards in front of me, stop, wait for me to pass, and then drive off.
One by one it kept happening.
WTF?! I thought. Are these peeps REALLY that impressed with my dance moves???
Oh shit, child, I thought. If ya’ll thought THAT was sweet check this out. I then busted out my best 2007 LiveVideo PhotoJenic booty shaking right there on Sunset …
To this song …
More cars started stopping again.
One Benz in particular was very persistent. I never approached the cars, but again, having seen this so many times before, and after asking a few cops about it – I KNEW what they were up to.
It absofuckinglutely made my life. Mind you too, I was rocking knee highs and converse. Not exactly streetwalker clothing, but my style sch-mexy.
So there you go. Another night in Hollywood where hearing coke being snorted in the bathroom and being mistaken for a prostitute is all part of the life. My parents must be so proud!