Friday, December 29, 2006

Questioning Probabilities and Such

Roxie was departing on a 10 day Costa Rica trip last night with her fun cousin Marcus, so I entered the fray to forcefully load them up before dumping their bodies and suitcases at LAX.
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.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

2006 Albums of the Year

The following are my top 22 favorite recordings from 2006, with imports included as well, since sea barriers cannot block great music from finding my sensitive ears. Seek these out if you haven’t already.
1. Muse, Black Holes & Revelations
2. Lily Allen, Alright, Still
3. Clipse, Hell Hath No Fury
4. Goldfrapp, Supernature
5. Cat Power, The Greatest
6. Girl Talk, Night Ripper
7. James Hunter, People Gonna Talk
8. TV on the Radio, Return to Cookie Mountain
9. The Roots, Game Theory
10. The Decemberists, The Crane Wife
11. Zero 7, The Garden
12. The Long Blondes, Someone To Drive You Home
13. Jarvis Cocker, Jarvis
14. Guillemots, Through the Windowpane
15. Joanna Newsom, Ys
16. Scissor Sisters, Ta-Dah
17. Charlotte Gainsbourg, 5:55
18. The Rapture, Pieces of the People We Love
19. Junior Boys, So This Is Goodbye
20. Serena-Maneesh, Serena Maneesh
21. Herbert, Scales
22. Grizzly Bear, Yellow House

Pillage and Plunder

I kind of cleaned house this Christmas, extremely thankful I’m well-liked enough to plunder so many wonderful presents, knowing that countless people aren’t as fortunate, and some aren’t lucky enough to even get one of these items:
$100 Barnes & Noble Gift Card
$100 Virgin Megastore Gift Card
$200 American Express Gift Card
$475 cold cash
$50 BevMo Gift Card
$50 Borders Gift Card
$50 Gap Gift Card
$50 Macy’s Gift Card
$50 Pottery Barn Gift Card
2 LACMA passes
2007 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Calendar
3 candles
Adidas T-Mac jump suit, black with red trim (once again pimpin’)
Amores Perros (DVD)
Atlas soccer beanie
Bath & Body Works Willow Bath Basket
Batman Begins (DVD)
Captain Morgan Spiced Rum (the handle, of course)
Contempt (DVD)
Corralejo Tequila
Courvoisier V.S.O.P.
Doobie Pie
Adidas sweatshirt, Grove Street style
Guess? jeans
Moonlighting Season 1 & 2 (DVD)
Okami (Playstation 2 game)
Once Upon a Time in the West (DVD)
Pineau des Charentes 2001
Adidas T-shirt, red w/ black trim
Sauza Tequila
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
The Stewardess is Flying the Plane: American Films of the 70’s (book)
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.

In other Christmas related news, the resurgence of The Detonator has been confirmed by a missed call yesterday at 8pm, which was rapidly returned at 2pm today.
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.

If transgressions with The Detonator fail to transpire this evening, the Ricky Roma within me will relentlessly begin the yearly call spree in order to determine bold exploits or bring about inspiration with the manically motivated.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Merry Christmas!

Philadelphia Eagles (+7) over DALLAS COWBOYS
New York Jets (+2) over MIAMI DOLPHINS
Los Angeles Lakers (+1) over MIAMI HEAT
& to quote baller Charles Jones, "Free James Brown!"

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Return of The Hoff

Leaving a Bash thrown by The Hoff regularly occurs in the early hours of the morning, when being more fatigued than drunk is the case. I never tire of attending shindigs in the LBC, especially when they're extra qualified by favored partner-in-crime Lara.
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.

Since it was early enough, I decided to join in on a friendly game of poker. I won $20 by playing at a superior level, backed up by the targeted trash talk I exhibited to firmly get into everybody’s head. “I promise to make this a quick game” and “I’m glad you guys are giving me some money” were the well represented quotes utilized.
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.

The one girl I really enjoyed was Kiki, whose sardonic humor elevated my wicked buzz immensely.
We talked about the weather, the year in music and film, how many drinks we'd each consumed, and best of all, our practical outlook on the new year. I guaranteed she would find herself a lover, that she's one of the few cool chicks not taken by some useless bastard. My appreciation for her no nonsense approach grew when she said, "Keeping men isn't a problem, it's wanting to."
Wayne stuck around briefly, disappeared after receiving this mysterious phone call, left out the backdoor wordless, a quality ripcord.
Calls later made to him were not immediately returned.

The holiday season seems to always unearth the alleged champions of years past, who return to southern California to dust off old trophies and resurrect historical glories in a matter of days. Of the many returning into action briefly, Marty returned from Hawaii with a new outlook on existence, firmly grounded in his lifestyle compared to indiscretions that previously sank him in the eyes of the circle.
“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.

Friday, December 22, 2006

The Fondue Is On Me

It’s difficult to stray from falling in love with Vickie.
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.

In my currently preposterous hungover state, I might experiment with the posh fondue set I acquired. I was pleased nobody stole it from me, so I got tremendously hammered because less is never expected from a Basher, with the fumes of my morning breath attesting to damage done correctly. Vickie’s egg nog crippled me righteous, a feat surely envied by The Hat.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Elephants, Promenade & Porn

With Christmas days away, the proverbial white elephant bash surfaces this evening at Greg and Vickie’s pad in Silver Lake. Got the invitation recently, today decided to cast aside my modest Grinch and join the festivities. Number one question was what gift to bring along, what would succeed, what would everyone want, what would I want?

“It's a simple-find a gift around your house you think someone else might get a kick out of (or find a funky gift in a thrift store, on the black market, in an alleyway for around $10 or less) and wrap it. The funkier, more off beat (but still cool somehow) the better.”

First off I walked the Santa Monica Pier, mostly because I hadn’t for a while.
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.

It’s impossible to stroll the Promenade without seeing a rebellious transient being cited for vagrancy or worse.
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.

The problem with white elephant and books, especially in Los Angeles, is that I have an unyielding belief that many people in this town don’t read or border on illiterate. For many, books look good on shelves, not opened. At least this risk shows a highbrow edginess in my manner.

Raj got creative, apparently putting together a shoebox full of porn, courtesy of an editor he knows over at Hustler. I’m sure all the males in attendance will fill with envy at the sight, wishing it was the gift they had gotten. For a girl, on the other hand, it’ll probably be met with a fake smile and total disgust.

Vickie promised I’d drink sick doses of egg nog, which I know The Hat is hating right now. I passed on the $30 year-end Echo Park poker tournament because of tonight, much to the chagrin of Lance who persistently insisted on calling me a rude slang term for vagina.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Identity Disclosed

Last night I met up with Hot Babe, who actually goes by the name of Lisa, which I slyly figured out by catching her voice mail recording by luck. She’s a funny one, very distinctive from the girls I’ve grown accustomed to, with quick witted sensibilities and an uncanny slickness in her approach to everyday atmospherics.
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.

In the end I avoided a familiar fallacy that unhappily befalls biological dealings in much of the male species, which was to make a move on her and pray reciprocation came my way. When moves have officially been made on a female in my presence, 100% of the move receivers comply. Any doubt, any question of denial within my heart, results in direct avoidance of serious discomfiture. I don’t need that type of distress in head.

I had a boss once, nice woman, liked her a lot, humorous and hard working, the type that gains the utmost respect of all co-workers. She made a move on me once, probably best classified as textbook sexual harassment, and as she approached my lips for the splendor of a goodnight kiss, maybe leading to something more productive, I pulled off the slight turn to cheek, which is where her wayward lips ended up planting.

I’ve never had that rejection, and I’m quite positive the feeling my actions left behind were that of embarrassment. In a way I pitied her, partially because she might’ve misconstrued the signals I was giving, but mostly because I gave her the Heisman pretty bad. Our professional lives didn’t suffer since I wouldn’t let it, plus after a while it seemed humorous. I haven’t been on that side yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.

But I had a great time with Lisa at the Chimneysweep, and her gay friend Tony was really nice, far from a threat which was what I initially feared.
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.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Monday Night Popularity

The cell hasn’t stopped ringing since I arrived home exhausted from the aftermath of a demanding Monday. The good part, which isn’t often the case, was that all the calls received have been of the female persuasion. Roxie was the first.
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.

Then I got a random call, one from Hayley, asking for advice on matters of the heart. I’ve earned quite a reputation for being a superior source of logic and reasoning, able to give straight talk with rational thought in assisting those with unresolved issues or issues in need of sorting. Trust like that is built by always keeping your mouth shut.
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).

About 10 minutes later UCLA blows up my phone, the phonebook moniker of the lovely Lara.
I guess The Hoff is having yet another Bash to end all Bashes on Friday down in the LBC, the invitation always being, “Bring your bathing suit, bring your records.” The last few visits down there have caused permanent damage to my brain and body, although resisting the temptation to play DJ, rock the Jacuzzi, and drink heavily is regrettable in every sense. I confirmed my soul.

I just finished speaking to Stefanie, a girl I met on Halloween.
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.

I now find myself looking at the numbers Ashley gave me Friday, not with resignation, but with wonder as to where the conversation leads after getting Disneyland out of the way. She’s an attractive girl, good personality, instantly qualified by her associations. I’ll call her tomorrow just to say, “Here I am.”

Of late, the plight I’ve been enduring can best be described as constant obligations piling up, the kind that leave you tired and exhausted, the kind you find difficulty in refusing. I should learn to say “No” more, screen my calls more stringently, lay to rest my obsession with the opposite sex. That way I’d probably have more acceptable sleeping patterns, no dark circles under the eyes, maybe even gain a stronger grasp of the surrounding beauty I often neglect.