Another Bleak Hollywood Story & My Mom's Famous One-Liners

I should not go out. I just shouldn't go out. The hassle is not worth it, so just so you know, friends, I will NOT be joining you at your next outing in freaking Hollywood. Nothing personal.

Let me recount the horrible story that filled one ugly Friday night of my life.
It's 10:40pm on a hot June night in Hollywood. I circle past Ritual for my friend's birthday bash, in search of scarce street parking. I finally pull into the lot on Cahuenga Blvd., and quickly U-turn out when I learn the damage would be $20. If people only knew how hard-earned my twenty dollars were. SO, on to parking a few blocks away for a much lighter sum.

The crowd waiting outside the club is already about a hundred deep, the door guy who looks like he's had a few drinks is letting people in only in handfuls at a time. One woman walks around with a guest list on a clipboard, checking people in. After 20 minutes of waiting, waiting for the guy, watching the door guy accept cash from guys and him letting them in with their friends, I finally get past the gate and he slips me a small blue ticket. I get carded by the bouncer and then proceed to the entrance. I hand the woman at the counter my ticket and she says, "Fifteen dollars, please."

Me: What? It's supposed to be comp - I'm on the guest list for the birthday party.
Woman at Counter: This ticket is for discounted cover. Check with the girl with the list.
I turn around, go back to the girl with the clipboard.

Me: Excuse me, I'm on the guest list for the (my friend's name) birthday party.
Clipboard Girl: What promoter is she under?
Me: I'm not sure - she didn't tell me about a promoter. My friend's name is ---.
Clipboard Girl looks through her list again. She says: I don't have her down, I need to know her promoter.
Me: She said to check in under her name though.

Clipboard Girl does another quick look at her list, shrugs as if to go, 'whatever', and then hands me a big blue ticket. I thank her then walk back over to the other line (the smaller line outside after getting past the crowd waiting outside), get carded again, then practically shove the blue ticket at the Counter Girl. She takes it, and says, "enjoy your night," or something along those lines.
It's now about 11:30pm. I wonder how much of my time I've wasted tonight that I'll never get back.

I walk through the main hallway and to the right there are reserved lounge areas and a dance floor in the middle, with two bars lining the walls. I walk back and forth, then round the bar towards the front. No one familiar yet. I proceed back to the hallway and find the outdoor patio where there are tables, another bar, and the cig-toting clubhoppers. I weave my way through, looking around, walking back to the indoor section adjacent to it, then back to the patio, and then decide to head back to the other side through the hallway.

It's pretty crowded, so I'm tapping people on the shoulder here and there. Just as I step forward to squeeze past the two girls smoking on my left and a handful of guys on my right, one of the girls on my left takes a puff of her cig and lowers her arm. Inches away from getting the back of my left arm burned from the sizzling end of a cigarette butt, I quickly jerk my arm away to dodge the fiery weapon.

My arm does not end up swinging mid-air, however. It lands on - not a table, a column, or plant. A houseplant would have been better. No, my dodging of a lit cigarette had landed on some guy's booty. Horrified, I realize what just happened, and this guy whirls around with his other guy friends and faces me. At this point I have both hands up in the air, palms out.

Me:"I am so sorry. I totally didn't mean to do that - I'm so sorry. I was just about to bump into this girl's cigarette - I'm so sorry, so sorry."

He doesn't say a word, he's just smiling, slightly shocked. I'm completely stunned and, with nothing more to say other than profusely apologizing, I turn and leave him and his speechless friends.

After about 20-30 minutes circling the club, I realize that I don't recognize anyone from my friend's birthday party. A few calls later and we realize that I'm in the wrong freaking club. There's apparently another club right next door to where I was supposed to be. But I wasn't where my friend thought I was. I leave the club, walk outside and turn right. A few blocks down the hill. Started walking west for a couple blocks on Sunset Blvd., and lo and behold, I am finaLLy at the right place.

It's still hot out and I'm sweating in my dress and jacket. The guy at the door says I'll have to wait. And yes I am there solamente. Also: there is no one else outside but me and the two bouncers when he says this. Him in his haughtiness and his two haughty friends in dark suits and smug earpieces standing in front of Social like its nobody's business. Then he proceeds to let 50 other scantily-clad people in before me, while I'm standing there. Wasting. Wasting precious minutes of my time while the guy wasn't letting me in to this club where my friend was having her birthday party and I was on her guest list. I whirl around and head back towards my car, a few blocks away, dialing my birthday pal to let her know that I had to book. I tried, but partying mood was long gone and no night is worth this much hassle.

Conclusion: I'm too old for this and life is too short.

Upside: I got into a club where I wasn't on the guest list and it was gratis. This for an anti-Hollywood nightlife chica, is surprising.

Downside: Wasted time and energy completely outweighs upside.

My Mom's Famous One-Liners
The scene: My mom and I getting ready to go out for breakfast. I've finished getting dressed and putting my make-up on. My mom gets up to go. My mom gives me a quick once-over.
Mom: Aren't you gonna put any make-up on?

And while we're hanging out..
My mom spots my pointy-toed black heels. She quietly examines them.
Mom: Where'd you get those wicked-y witch shoes?

Oh, Omma.