Yep, true story. That happened.
Well, technically speaking it wasn’t meth but THC being extracted from weed that caused the explosion. Apparently this is a new “thing.” So insane.
Friday marked a milestone in my life. For the first time, ever, I cooked for other people.
And not just a few people … a dinner party for EIGHT!
I called my mom prior to ask for two of my favorite recipes.
You’re calling ME for a recipe? She said on the phone laughing.
Yes, mother. I said.
Wow, you must be ready to make a change. This is a first.
I’ve lived on my own for 11 years and lived in Los Angeles in general for the last 9. Never once … and I mean not ONCE have I called my mom asking for a recipe. Again, all of the women in my family are phenomenal cooks so why should I have ever messed with perfection? My job was to develop my own niche (which I did at age 2 when I started typing) and figure out what made me tick.
Either way, I am now at a stage in my life where if I wanted to get serious with a dude I’m sure some sort of cooking would be involved. Might as well learn now, I thought as I was writing out my dating detox list.
Friday afternoon I went to Trader Joes and picked up all my ingredients. To my surprise to feed eight, it only cost me $50! Check out what I got for that …
Prep time is minimal explained my mom. 5 minutes or less for everything.
Great, I said back.
I then worked right up until my roommate got home before I finally began prepping everything.
Julie came over to look at the instructions.
I started laughing. Look, I didn’t realize I wrote these out on the same page as info I was collecting for a project involving a helicopter rental. So random …
<tangent> I write down all of my thoughts in one massive notebook. It takes me about a year to go through it, but this way I don’t jot things down on an envelope or something and lose it. Everything is in order and is dated. Super efficient! </tangent>
Around 7, everything was set and ready to go in the oven. (The party was set to start at 7:30.)
Crap, I said to Julie, I forgot to get parking passes. (We live in a restricted area.) I gotta jet out to get some.
I then grabbed a hoodie (as it was raining) and RANNNNNNNNN down the street to grab the passes.
After a few moments, I noticed a helicopter appear above my head.
Weird, I thought, but it’s LA. Whatever.
I then signed for the passes and walked back. At this point about 10 minutes had gone by and suddenly that one helicopter had become five.
In LA you MIIGGHHHTTT have an accident that would require 1 or 2 news crew helicopters. If there is a celebrity involved you MIIGGHHHTTT have 3, but 5?!?!?! FIVE?!?!! Are you kidding?!?!?! Mind you too, they were right over my head. Having marked the one year anniversary of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I was particularly sensitive about not having a repeat experience.
I finally get back in the house and tell Julie (and my buddy Steph who had also arrived) what I just experienced.
I feel like I just came back from war, I admitted. Between the rain, the people freaking out on the street, and the helicopters that was quite the experience.
What’s going on? Julie asked. Steph and I were just wondering what all the helicopters were for.
Let’s get on twitter and find out, Steph said.
Julie then pulled up WehoDaily’s twitter account (which is amazing and hilarious for everything you ever need to know about West Hollywood) and right at the top of the page was a RT from someone claiming there was a meth lab explosion in their building a handful of blocks away from us.
No way, Julie said. This must be a joke.
A few more RTs came in re: the meth lab and we all started to freak. No WAY there was a meth lab down the street. shut. the. front. door.
The helicopters at this point were almost deafening.
My neighbor and buddy Amanda Coolong then knocked on the door.
What is going ON?! She said.
Apparently a meth lab exploded.
WHAT?! She said. That’s nuts.
Come on in, I say to her helping her with her coat. I can’t stay, she said. I just wanted to say hey. My friend brought another friend and I didn’t want to impose with an extra guest (and he’s a guy).
Girl are you KIDDING?! I said back. I’m an irish cook. You KNOW I made extra. The more the merrier!! Bring him!!
Are you sure? she said.
Of course!!! As long as he doesn’t mind hanging around with all girls this evening.
I doubt he will mind, she said with a smile. Alrite, well let me go and at least get some wine.
Perfect, I said.
About a half hour later the rest of the party arrived along with my other friends.
I had held things over in the stove waiting for everyone’s arrival. I lifted the chicken up taking my first sample to make sure everything was cooked alrite.
I took a bite, and FREAKED!!! Omg!! This is delicious!!
I then filled up everyone’s wine (I drank agua) and served my friends.
For the first time in my life, I truly understood why my parents loved hosting so many dinner parties as a kid. There was something so viscerally appealing about being able to feed my friends and have them eat something I made.
I totally get why people do this, I thought. This feels GREAT!!!!
I waited an hour before posting on Facebook btw about people eating. I wanted to give myself extra time just incase anyone keeled over. I’m not kidding.
During dinner the topic of Ben Fold’s chatroulette video came up. One of the guests hadn’t seen it before.
Here, let me get my laptop, I said. It’s a great vid.
I then set up my macbook pro on one of the chairs and youtubed the vid.
I had seen the video before, but the group started laughing collectively at the randomness that only Chatroulette could provide.
Three quarters of the way through the video, someone suggested getting on Chatroulette.
YES!!! I said. I haven’t been on that site since it came out a few years back.
Who’s game to see some penis? I asked the group.
All the girls screamed YES as the one guy remained silent.
(He was hilarious btw, and what a trooper to sit through girls night. We did NOT hold back!!! Topics ranged from dildos, to vibrators, boobs, and startups. Clearly.)
I then logged in, and come to find out Chatroulette now makes you create an account and impedes you from automatically going live on a webcam. You first have to have two 10 minute conversations before you are allowed to get on cam.
Alrite, fine, I said with the laptop on my lap. Let’s just create the account.
It then instructed me to upload a picture.
What picture should I use? I asked the group.
I then saw on my desktop the picture of me and my boyfriend Walter …
This is perfect, I said to the group.
We then logged in on a mission to have at least two 10 minute conversations just so we could get on cam and see some penis action.
Here was our first exchange …
We couldn’t stop laughing at all of the sexual plant innuendos …
The group then started shouting out certain words I had to incorporate into the chat. We. Were. Dying. with how into these guys got.
After a few minutes, I realized we were somewhere around the 10 minute mark. Their platform didn’t reflect our time spent, but I figured that was just because it’s chatroulette and I highly doubt they care.
I then said bye to our first friend and refreshed the page to check our status.
I then pulled up this dude that had penguins as his default photo.
PENGUINS!!! I shouted to the room.
I then told the guy we were waiting for our second 10 minute conversation. At this point it was 10:11 and I asked if we could keep talking until 10:21.
Not a problem, he said.
Super sweet little dude. He’s from Mexico and his biggest passion is soccer.
How awesome! I said.
Time went by pretty quickly and at 10:22 (I allocated an extra minute for any sort of computer error) I bid our penguin friend adieu and attempted to get on cam.
All of the girls gathered around at this point.
First up was this dude …
He was hot but not on cam.
We were bored and wanted to see some penis.
Chatroulette now has a “drawing” option, so our next friend challenged us to a game of tic-tac-toe.
The buggar cheated. We weren’t amused.
We were all pretty amazed at the variety of avatars users had selected.
WE ARE ON A MISSION THOUGH!!! I reminded the girls.
Aw, it’s a girl. Who knew there were more of you on this site!!!
Penis though. Penis! Penis! Penis! NEXT!!!
Then we came to this dude, who not only read to us, but could do KILLER voice over impressions. Like SPOT ON!!!!
Do you have a youtube channel? I asked.
No, he said.
Why not? I pressed.
I don’t know, he said.
Well, what do you do for a living?
I’m in law school, he said.
Is it your passion? I asked.
No, he said. I wanted to be a pilot.
Then why aren’t you?
Because of my family. I have to have a job that pays well.
Do you have children or a wife? I ask.
No, he said. But I want to one day.
THIS MAKES NO SENSE!!! I exclaimed. You’re sacrificing your passion for a family that you don’t even have yet???
We then swapped Facebook info as I explained to him that we were on a mission to see a penis.
Good talking to you, and send me your youtube video when you make it.
Alrite, he said, then adding me as well on Facebook.
This guy wouldn’t show his peen either!!! WTF?! I screamed to the group. Chatroulette used to be all about the penis spotting. This is making me terribly sad!!!
Kyle, the guy in the group, then chimed in.
In all my life I’ve never seen a girl work so hard to see a penis.
I AM ON A MISSION!!! I SCREAMED!!! I am going to make this happen!!!
Next up was this dude.
Lemme see your penis, I said without a single ounce of shame.
He started laughing.
I don’t think you understand that I’m not kidding. I want to see your penis.
I then tried a different tactic switching to animal sounds to seduce the males …
Rawwrrrrr … Mooooo … BBAAAHHHHH … I said with a completely straight face.
My new friend didn’t budge at all.
You’re no fun, I said. NEXT!
I tried the same tactic again.
He was not impressed.
Let me see your tits, he said, in exchange.
I’m not flashing you, I said back. I don’t think you understand the nature of our dynamic. I’m a girl on chatroulette, your purpose in this relationship is to show me your penis. You then get the gratification that a female has seen your penis for the evening and then we both move on.
I then made hand gestures involving an imaginary penis and my mouth.
I got nothing.
Again, with a completely straight face I asked this guy to show me his penis.
Come on, I cooed. Just a little. Take it out and show me.
He couldn’t stop laughing at how serious I was.
At this point I had spent an hour on Chatroulette and decided to throw in the towel. I was extremely diasppointed but apparently they have cleaned up the social site. They now have an option to flag someone for being inappropriate and chatroulette has become more of a “meeting ground” for skype. All of the guys just kept trying to get us to get on skype. I don’t get what this site has become!! What poor branding. At least if you are known as being the site for penises you should OWN IT and ENABLE THE PENISES!!!! Makes no sense to me and the platform in general is complete crapola.
No. freaking. bueno.
Either way … the party then continued as we all gabbed the night away.
I can’t remember a time I had so much fun, I thought. Great friends, good food … this is beyond amazing.
Then around 12:30 the party started to die down and the girls that were spending the night decided to get in their PJs.
We then put on The Legend of Billie Jean and started cheering on the cult classic.