Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Four Nights . . . Four Parties

So Labor Day Weekend was upon me despite the lack of labor this year, I felt obligated to celebrate all four days.

Friday Night

Friday night, Jaq was going to a party in Orange County. Her ex was expected to be in attendance so she needed the moral support. She and I drove into the night, crossing party lines.

I was wearing a dress just because in this heatwave, my ass was sticking to everything I sat on and I needed some ventilation. Jaq and I discussed wardrobe briefly before she closed it out with, "We look way better than these people. That's why I didn't dress up, so they wouldn't feel bad."

Just before arriving, we stopped off at a 7Eleven to grab liquor and gum. We walked in and Jaq asked to use the restroom. A Middle-Eastern guy in a uniform said, "No, not for customers." Jaq begged and I said, "Please, she is an American Lady." He agreed and escorted her to the back room, leaving me alone with an older, shorter, wrinkled Hispanic man. He turned to me and said, "No plans on a Friday night?"

WTF dude, I am at a 7Eleven holding a bottle and gum in a fucking dress. Does it look like I don't have plans?

I said, "Oh, I have plans." I looked at what he was buying. One container of motor oil. Winner.

Jaq and the store clerk came back, thank God. We grabbed some mild alcohol and domestic beer then headed to an apartment in Tustin.

Jaq was growingly nervous because she was seeing the ex that broke her heart for the first time since he changed relationship status on Facebook. Jaq watched as his relationship publicly crumbled from 'In a Relationship', to 'Its Complicated' to 'Single.' (cow bell)

We pulled up and the block was packed for parking. Todd (we'll call him) came running out topless. He was on the cell phone talking to Jaq while motioning to us and then jumping on the hood of her car for a ride. She shouted out the window with her cell phone still against her face, "I have nowhere to park!!" He shouted back from 10 ft away, "PARK OVER THERE!" Jaq, "WHERE!? I DON'T SEE IT!" He shouted back, "OVER THERE!!!"

I said, "Jesus. You both must be really excited to see each other. You are shouting back and forth at each other like an old married couple."

Jaq giggled, "He's happy to see me."
I said, "He must be, he didn't even notice me."

She laughed. (Thank God)

We walked in to an apartment with two old people- the birthday boy's parents, around 5 boys and 4 girls, two bongs, a table full of beer cans, a guinea pig and lots of smoke. The boys were wrestling, slapping each other's bare chests, giving each other tittie twists and wedgies, not to mention the occasional pop in the scrotum. All of this was met with homo-erotic jokes about tea bagging, ass fucking and blowing each other's dicks.

I took a picture of the hand print on Todd's chest from a slap and just tried to stay out of the way.

1st Mistake: I texted Abe that I was in the OC and hoping we could be friends. (Earlier in the day I noticed he was on-line and I was waiting)

I thought of his theory that animal-like behavior was indicative of a lesser evolved mind.

The birthday cake was brought out, some wildly messy chocolate cake that I felt compelled to bury my face in. Everyone had a piece and I had to go through the awkward explanation that I am vegan but Happy Birthday!

The birthday boy had a Bud Light in one hand and a piece of cake in the other. I said, "Beer and chocolate cake, huh?"

He laughed with a mouth full of cake, "Yeah. Where have you been?"

Checked phone. Nothing.

There was a very young boy there. He was as tall as me, but his lips and eyes were still bigger than the rest of his head. He walked towards me nodding his head shyly.

I said, "What do you got there? Chocolate cake with some swirl."
16 yr-old, "Yeah, I don't know what it is but I don't like it very much, so I am trying to eat around it."

Then he slowly put a fist's full of cake in his mouth. I watched his eyes roll over my face to the sky as he tried to swallow that thing whole. I liked him.

I was fidgeting with a Rubik's cube and he volunteered to show me how to make it work. He tried to coach me in combinations; a pattern of up or down, left or right, that brought all the colors to one side. I tried to memorize it, but I couldn't nail it down.

He grabbed the cube and put it together in under a minute. I asked him to tell me the basic formula. He said, "I don't know. My hands are doing it, not my mind." He told me he coached himself using YouTube videos and instructions, but the final move was misleading in the directions so he had to figure it out himself.

My insides were warming. Adopt him? Hold his hand? Um . . . confused.

The parents left and took my new companion home so he could go beddy bye.

We hung around and talked, I felt quiet. Everyone was so familiar with each other, it was a small group of friends.
It was hard distinguishing who the couples were, just because so many of these people had dated each other and still felt comfortable being openly flirtatious with one another.

All I could really do was freeze my ass off and wait for someone to offer me a smoke off the bong. Someone would get the idea to find me pot and then get distracted. So I waited it out for Jaq.

The host was kind of hot and cold, she was also Todd's ex and would have been his companion for the night if Jaq hadn't shown up and divided his attention.

Host, "We can't give pot to the Guinea Pig!?!? Last time she got a respiratory infection."

Checked my phone. No messages.

Todd pulled a long hair off his chest. "Who's is this? Wait" He ran the long hair under his nose. "I can figure it out." He laughed. He was posturing. He wanted to remind us that he had sex with every girl in the room (but me).

The night dragged on in a haze of second hand pot smoke and 5% alcohol. Todd took the liberty to smack my ass. I could feel Jaq and the Host processing this. Me, well . . . I just like a good spanking once in a while, so thanks!

I looked out at the alley across the street. There were some overweight people arguing. I kept staring at the woman's legs. I said to Jaq, "Does someone have their arms around that woman's legs?" Jaq said, "No. I think that's her wrapped around her legs."

I laughed and I said, "HAHA! I am cruel." Jaq seriously said, "Sometimes." I hate it when this happens. Now my mind had to go down this unexpected portal of thought: Was I ever cruel to Jaq? I ran through the last 3 years of memory. No, I can't think of anything. When was I cruel? How? Huh? Of course, we are at a party and I didn't want to open up that poke in conversation so I kept my mouth shut.

Jaq and Todd disappeared outside together while I was stuck in the living room watching Top Chef in the MIDDLE OF A SEASON I am not caught up on, with a room of people who were all stoned while I was still not stoned. I thought about Jaq and this boy, Todd. I wanted to take him for a walk by the collar of his shirt (or in this case, the skin on his neck) and tell him that the only future I see with him in Jaq's life is serving her french fries on the occasion she lowers herself to fast food.

Mistake #2: Texted Abe, "Oh, I thought you were back because I saw you on-line. Best of luck on future endeavors."

They came back in and Jaq was heavy with thought. She was ready to go. However, there was some conversation about carpooling that never really finished, so we lingered for another 30 minutes.

I sat down in my skirt and stretched my legs in front of me. The couple next to me commented on how long my legs are. I was attracted to the boy in the pair but was not flirtatious at this party. Until then . . .

I said, "Sometimes I miss little patches of hair on my legs when I am shaving." I leaned over and tilted my head up to the boy, pointing at the underside of my knee. "Like right here." I watched his face fall down to my legs and then saw his girlfriend turn to stare hard at the side of his head. She pulled his head straight up with her eyes. Magical. I felt suddenly guilty, so I stood up and asked her how she felt. She was sick earlier and I wanted to express compassion so she didn't think I was a bitch.

Then we left. Party #1 (check)

Saturday Night

David, who I will now call #23- texted me asking if I wanted to hang out. I did, but I also wanted to catch the outdoor screening of SCARFACE playing at my friend's place in West Hollywood. He asked to join me. I picked him up and asked him to navigate.

He couldn't really form a sentence, much less learn my iPhone in one sitting. I said, "Really? How can you pleasure my body if you can't help me navigate driving directions?"

23, "I don't do that."

Great, so it wasn't just that he was drunk last week, he really doesn't know how to hold a conversation. What the fuck is up with our country's education system?

He kissed me and then leaned back, with a slight spring in his hips to indicate he had an erection. He said, "Do you see it?"

I poked at the tip of his penis through the jeans. "Yeah."

23 rustling around giggling.

Me, "What? Are you hitting puberty over there."

23 laughs.

Me, "Do you have something to say?"

23, "I can't believe you found my boner so fast."

That was the longest conversation we ever had.

Other highlights from our drive to the party included:

23, "What are silent theaters?"
Me, "Theaters that play movies without sound."
23, "There are movies without sound?"
Me, "Yeah."
23, "Oh like from the 40s and stuff?"

Me, "Jesus Fuck, green means go! (silence) Are you Christian?"
23, "Yeah."
Me, "Does it bother you when I say Jesus Fuck?"
23, "Kinda. You could say Jew Nazi."
Me, "I don't think Jew Nazis exist."
23, "Sure, why not?"
Me, "They are . . . like . . .

He kept honking my horn and shouting, "Hey" at random people to make them look. I asked him to control himself, it was not funny. He insisted it was and I just didn't get it. I felt like Anthony Michael Hall in SIXTEEN CANDLES except without the getting laid then sobering up to a nice conversation part.

We were way early, I read the invitation wrong. So I stopped to get a bottle of wine at the drug store.

23: "I want to marry you" "Let's make a baby" He indicated that we move to my back seat in the middle of a crowded parking lot at dusk. Then he shouted out my window, "Mom!" at a random older woman walking by.

Me, "No."

We drove to my friends house- the brother and sister I love and adore. Let's call them K (previous blog) and Em (switching her over to an alias since apparently there is a lot I don't know about her). We were just swinging by to pick up some medicinal plants. I parked and 23 said, "Can I wait in the car?" I said, "No. Come in and meet my friends." He said, "The drug dealers?"

I said, "Don't worry about the cocaine and rifles on the kitchen table. Just don't stare too long."


We pranced up to the front door and he said, "I have never done coke before, but I will! I have only done crack with black people in Missouri."

Me, "Yeah? How was that?"

23, "It sucked."

We got what we needed and met Jaq back at the party. It was a small party, same number of people as Friday night but a different age group. We all dragged blankets and chairs to the backyard and sat in front of a painted white wall. The film started and Al Pacino's name came up.

23, "Who's that?"

As the film went on, 23 kept staring at me and leaning in for kisses. He loudly whispered in my ear, "Come lie down with me in the house." Gawd, can you imagine walking past 5-6 adults and sleeping with an acquaintance in their house while they watched a movie.

I said, "No, come on. Go sleepy." And I pushed his head down so he would fall asleep and shut up.

He dragged himself through the rest of the night half asleep with his baseball hat pulled down over his eyes. Half asleep at the patio table as we chatted after the movie. Half asleep on the couch as we chatted in the living room. Two modes for #23: horny & sleepy.

I drove him home.

Me, "So tell me a story about yourself."
23, "I like to drive barefoot sometimes."


I dropped him off then got a peck and a promise to call me the next day. He never did. Oh 23, so genetically delicious and so so . . . amazed you don't still live with your mom.

Party #2 (check)

Sunday Night

I am acquainted with a Rod Stewart impersonator from Vegas we hired on a documentary series I worked on several years ago about legal prostitution. He agreed to participate in the negotiation and a "date" with two legal prostitutes in a brothel while we filmed it.

He was a "dom" or into dominating women. He paddled one of the prostitutes until she was black and blue. She acted thrilled with the bruising, calling it art as she posed in front of the full length mirror. The other female producer on the show looked at me, horrified.

He fucked both girls, who I considered my friends at the time, while I watched from the director's monitor in the next room. It was weird and made me uneasy. Did I say uneasy, I mean queasy!

Shit. He left and we kept filming the two women. The one with a paddled bottom broke down crying about an abortion she had a few years before. She ran back to her room and cried while cradling a stuffed animal. That made me cry and call my parents. I felt like I just set up my friend to get hurt.

Later, Rod II told me how erotic it was to fuck them while thinking of me watching. I told him about the girl breaking down in tears. He had no idea.

Then he asked if he could masturbate in front of me.

That was 3 years ago.

He came back out Sunday, and I invited him to join me at a Sangaria party Helen's friends were throwing in Hollywood. Again, another intimate gathering with just a handful of people. Of course, Rod II had disclosed to me over dinner that once he made love to a woman who walked into a bedroom, shoved a dildo "the size of my leg" inside of her, then threw him a rubber chicken and told him to fuck it in front of her.

Now this wasn't any rubber chicken. It was a rubber chicken with a rubber vagina. Rod II fucked it. I told him I was going to tell that story at cocktail parties. He laughed and then walked into the Sangaria party making jokes about fucking chickens. That went on all night.

We crossed the street to UCB for a free improv show, and the paparazzi ran after us taking pictures of him. I mean, really? He has the hair cut and the act, but he is not Rod Stewart.

The show was full so we decided to go to a karaoke bar called The Drawing Room in Silver Lake. That place was dive-alicious! I walked in and saw candles, red lights and plastic booths. I said, "Oh this is so Oly, I love it." Olympia had a great scene. I miss it.

Bar was cash only and I ordered a martini. Rod II was surprised since I was keeping alcohol consumption low. I said, "You got to get a martini in a place like this." He smiled, I could see in his mind he saw an opening. He sat close, put his arm around me and flirted. Gawd knows I need the fucking attention. My ego is whimpering as its dragged along to couple's parties, holding on to the faint smell of 23's Axe body spray.

I got Rod II up to do Maggie May with me and another girl. Damn, that was awesome. I signed him up as Rod Stewart and he played along to keep me giggling. I know he hates shit like that off the clock.

People came up and bowed at us, took pictures, gave a thumbs up. It was just a great moment. Then I was up with "Miss You" by Rolling Stones with Rod II on back up.

You see, I never really get addicted to chemicals. I indulge in moments of excess sometimes, but I never really feel involuntarily captured by my vices. However, I am obsessed with YouTube videos of Mick Jagger. I wake up and play him. I play him before I go to sleep. I watch his broken doll swagger and wonder why it is so fascinating to watch. I don't know, but Miss You is in my brain constantly. So I did a Mick performance, dance moves consistent with his 1978 TV performance.

Sometimes, when I pull off a good performance . . . people approach me afterward, throw wedding proposals at me, what not. This time, I only got a few pats on the back and a personal thank you from the DJ. I was under the glorious bleached blond/lime light of Rod II's spiked hair.

All us girls went up to do a Bangles version of CLOSER by Trent Reznor. During the spoken word segment, Helen spoke the lyrics and I screamed the last word in every sentence. I really think that brought the audience back after a few slow ballad, always a karaoke faux pas. Then we left.

I invited Rod II to stay the night at my place since it was late and the beer would make a drive to Vegas too damn difficult. He agreed. I gave him my bedroom after some protest and set up in my living room with the dogs. I forgot something in the bathroom and walked in on Rod II with a perfect sun tan and turquoise bikini briefs. I exclaimed, "Holy Turquoise!"

Maybe he is Rod Stewart.

Party #3 (check)

Monday Night

Em was having a BBQ at her place. Jaq and I met there for excessive alcohol and bud, lesbian story swapping, ice cold pool swimming, bathroom crying and veggie protein. Wow, that kind of covers the whole evening actually. I mean, it was such a full night I don't even know how to approach coming in with a story.

I tried to get men over to set Jaq up with, since the only men on hand were Em's husband and K who has a new girlfriend. I got responses from all possible candidates, but only one showed up before Jaq left.

An old friend from college who dropped by after I texted him a picture of my nipple. He showed up during the peak of our dance interpretation of SWEET DREAMS. He walked in and I was slung head over Em's shoulder, spanking her. He threw his coat down and said, "I broke up with my girlfriend."

The evening from there is a bit fuzzy. I could see the alcohol was hanging heavy from Em's face. Her head was bobbing down and I could see serious thoughts were slithering their way inside of her. Also, K was strangely distant. I can only assume its because I am cuter than his new girlfriend.

I tried my best to entertain. This is a sample:

Me, "So there was this fat woman . . . down the alley and I said, 'Does someone have their arms around her legs or (me hysterically laughing) or is that
(me hysterically laughing) is (me hysterically laughing) . . . no no no. Ok. Does someone have their arms around her (me hysterically laughing) legs or (me hysterically laughing) . . . ok. Does someone . . ."

It kind of went on like that. Em's husband had his head up and his mouth open, pensively awaiting the next necessary detail of my sentence. K was straight faced and staring at me like I was an idiot. And my old friend just kept bracing himself each time I turned to slap his leg. Yeah- that's when you should gracefully leave a party if you can. I didn't.

Em and I ran around the house, still a little wet from the pool laughing, climbing on each other, rolling on the bed. I made her balance me on her feet and lift me up so I could fly. Eventually, things turned darker as they always do. Em wanted to go to a new bar against her husband's wishes, in her eye glasses and over sized t-shirt and I was worried about my dogs, and upsetting her husband.

EAT, PRAY LOVE: "The two things people always fight about: How much do you love me? Who is in control?"

So I jumped in my car and drove home.

Mistake #3: I called Abe. He didn't answer. I said, "I know its stupid that I am calling but I just want to talk. Bye."

No answer. 40 minutes later . . .

Mistake #4: I wrote him an angry, one sentence email and went to bed.

My hot and cold communication with him does seem pathetic, I know. However, the best friendships I have  are the ones that keep perspective and survive the anger and resentment because, in the end, it is nothing compared to the friendship. That said, my electronic valentines have to end somewhere, and I believe it is ending here.

I am struggling to accept that he has entirely disappeared from me. Perhaps he read this blog and got angry. Or maybe, he started forgetting me.

When my friends are hurt, I rephrase a line I heard from an Ashley Judd movie: "When love happens, it is so amazing and so magical, you can't believe it happened to you. When its over, the hardest part is convincing yourself that something that amazing and magical can not just happen once in your life, but twice. And then it does."

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