Her dazzling spark will be sincerely missed over this weekend, with mystifying eventfulness growing with each fleeting moment. As we were having several cocktails at Q’s, I was approached by random dude who I apparently befriended one Sunday while watching football at Del’s. To confirm this deceptively baffling fact, I was able to unearth a photo of him from that day.
He cheerfully boasted of a Bash on Saturday that’s nearby, with two DJs and tons of booze and food, an offer which would leave me duly dishonored in not accepting. His friend, who’s throwing the impressive sounding party, told him not to invite men so that numbers wouldn’t skew towards sausage, but he thought I’d bring something to table. Guess he enjoyed my company over that obscure afternoon drinking.Figure it’ll be a nice follow-up to Hillary’s Venice Bash, since my thirst for double features is ravenous to an extent.
I’ve managed to shun The Detonator until today. We’re going to the movies this afternoon to see “Children of Men,” along with a handle of Captain Morgan to remain attentive in case the film drags. After the fresh spirits enter our system, goal will be to demolish ourselves somewhere in the Hollywood region, although not too much so as to promote prime bodily fitness for the impending New Year celebration.
Call downs for New Year's possibilities were somewhat successful, with three Bashes that seemingly feel like worthy choices, the fourth juicy option being an uncompromising road trip to Solana Beach, with Selena, Lylee and friends always providing hospitable accommodations and heavy amounts of merciless Bashing.
Another reason to go has to do with the amount of hate mail received over the past few months, questioning my friendship, questioning my heart, questioning my spotless credentials as a full fledged Basher.
Just reviewing the photos from SelenaPalooza have made a significant impact, but yearly tradition is to make an impulsive decision at the last minute in order to avoid high expectations which will never be met.
1. Muse, Black Holes & Revelations
7. James Hunter, People Gonna Talk
17. Charlotte Gainsbourg, 5:55
$100 Barnes & Noble Gift Card
Estimated value of the pillage is around $1,700, not bad, especially considering I didn’t spend nearly as much as I received, although some of the gifts given to me were a courteous thanks for services rendered.
He truly is the gift that keeps on giving. Might forcefully attempt a wild rendezvous tonight, surely with reason out of the question. I alerted him as to the “End of an Era” Bash on Saturday, the one at Hillary’s Surf Shaque in Venice, the last stand before she makes way to Silver Lake. I’m saddened, especially since I never saw anyone fall off her famed rooftop, and the fact her Canada Day party was a major success.
The next day, New Years Eve, is where the real question lies. A Basher true to procedure would ensure that an extravagant number of booze options are open, along with a memorable harem of fine ladies, entertaining folk, and preferably access to a Jacuzzi with champagne on ice nearby.
Philadelphia Eagles (+7) over DALLAS COWBOYS
& to quote baller Charles Jones, "Free James Brown!"
The Jacuzzi got going full swing after a couple hours filled with heavy drinking and other debaucherous behavior unbecoming of a gentleman. 
Of course, research has repeatedly shown that the moment beautiful women enter a Jacuzzi, it's soon followed by all the dudes rushing to get in. This night was no different.
The Hoff took over as DJ during the poker game, confidently showcasing skills I wasn’t aware of, diverting attention from the other players, a feather in my cap.
DJ is a post normally held honorably by his thug of a roommate Ronny, a person of great stature who I do not expound upon enough. He could be the glue that holds this precious community together, a legend in his own right, somebody I look up to with respect.
Ronny hung out by the bonfire most of night, reveling in the beauty of his humble abode with proper libations and broads.
Calls later made to him were not immediately returned.
“Now I surf, teach scuba lessons after learning how to dive, surf, and I bartend in Lahaina,” he said with passion. “The girls are awesome over there.”
He once earned a solid reputation as the guy you keep your girlfriend away from, because he’d probably have sex with her behind your back without qualms. Real winner.
Completely thrashed from the excursion south and drinking all their booze, so I crawled into my bed at sunrise, formed a bodily ball of myself, woke up into hatred at 5pm. Final preparations for Christmas are difficult to realize, with Saturday palpably left behind as day of nothing but sleep and watching Cops and Cheaters later tonight.
Both her and Greg put on a phenomenal white elephant Bash, one that fruitfully balanced the highs with lows and delivered a sucker punch to all those questioning their greatness.
The impressive spread in the kitchen induced a frothing drool from all those within eyesight, including myself, who ended up grossly gorging on whatever happened to find its way in front me, and I didn’t discriminate chestnuts from gingerbread. Vickie was also nice enough to send me off with a yummy to-go bag of fattening goodies.
The Bash started off well and good, anticipation running high as to what significant gifts were placed under the tree. The first high in demand item was the $25 Starbucks gift card, which reached it’s steal limit rather early. I drew #25, so stealing that wasn’t an option. I graciously waited my turn, and then I swiftly stole the classy fondue set, much to the horror of an unassuming girl I’d never met before.
She ended up with a chinsy Hawaiian ash tray that was obviously picked out of a thrift store “must go” bin. Nobody was lining up to steal.
My great choice of gift was backed up by becoming one of the few most thirsted over. In white elephant bashes, before choosing a gift you have the option of stealing another’s present, and mine gleefully reached the limit.
Greg was the first to see the value in the book and CDs, ended up being the first to smoothly steal before others followed suit.
People couldn’t resist piecing through the tome with engrossed eyes tracing over the details of sexual perspectives from DJs, cowboys and sex store workers.
Raj’s shoebox of porn was another treasured item, demand elevated and worthy of hilariously unified, intermittent chants of “box of porn!” It reached the steal limit as well.
We both exceeded expectation in bringing gifts everyone wanted, the ultimate goal in white elephant, and it seems we both mastered the art gloriously. Raj was ultimately bitter at his prize, one that nobody wanted to snag, a talking teddy bear bride.
He scored a couple digits as a consolation prize, a mood improver if I’ve ever seen one. On my end, a few phone numbers were achieved in the spirit of the holidays, made sinfully easier with the holy guidance of Miller High Life.
Then I went to my usual haunt, the Santa Monica Promenade, sifted through the aisles of the Puzzle Zoo (the place stressed me out majorly so I had to leave before stabbing someone), Urban Outfitters, Gap, redneck cowboy store, and even attempted random candle store with clearance sale in the depressingly bleak and empty Santa Monica Place.
Except for the food court, the mall is deader than disco, the majority of the stores closed down with surely more to come. The Promenade has probably helped in putting scores of these stores out of business. It's just a lot prettier outside.
I love visiting the Promenade at least once a week because of the variety of stores to browse, plus the cutest girls cruise it with the exception of Melrose or Venice Beach.
The Promenade was bustling in parts, some people carrying fat bags in hand hoping to finish off Christmas shopping before the last minute flock.
After anxiety heatedly crept in, I found my gift at Barnes & Noble, figured this might do the trick:
For white elephant bashes, optimal offering is a gift both sexes can take pleasure in and really “get a kick out of.” After piecing through the many occupations inside, like nudists, stoners, Santas and twins, there’s something for everyone, and since a couple entries made me laugh aloud I deemed it a winner. I’m also throwing in my Best of 2006 CD for the hearing impaired.
She has an effortless sexiness around her that’s guided by a unique power forged from something unrevealed, a mystery, the kind that intrigues me fastidiously, wanting to know more. I bet she does that to all the guys.
I see many more great times ahead for us, incorporating her into the circle will be done without any snags. I love hitting it off with cool chicks, and admittedly, I try to hang out with women far more than men.
Roxie hates me for all the crazy and creative Bashes I’ve attended lately, because her Thousand Oaks obligations have unfortunately had priority. I promised her a copy of my ultimate Christmas CD, which everyone I know receives and cherishes, the greatest holiday mix ever created, loved by all who stumble upon it. I’ll probably even throw in the best of 2006, a recent addition to my pantheon. I’m meeting her for cocktails on Thursday. I love that girl.
She came away from our 22 minute conversation with a resolute outlook, a more positive one for sure. Sometimes good advice isn’t the complete solution, many times it’s just being able to freely air your grievances (like Festivus eh).
She’s a former college volleyball player who wants to put together a team, misses the feel of the court and the euphoria of hammering balls and dishing nectar. Ever since playing college ball I’ve resigned myself to strictly playing co-ed, for the days of ultra-testosterone psychosis have passed me by, bores me, plus I enjoy the sight of sweaty women in terrific shape. I’m going to make inquiries on putting together a team, may even see her Friday night for fun.
