Sunday, January 7, 2007

Satisfying Cruise Control

There are many exceptional ways to solve the often intricate trials and tribulations of weekend boredom, and my favorites happen to be heavy drinking and womanizing. I went to Lala’s off Melrose the other day to indulge in a quality Argentinean feast along with a few fat carafes of sangria. My good friend Mr. White just got engaged to his lovely girlfriend Tamara, certainly a happy time for the both of them.
Some couples are ideal; they are one of the few relationships I genuinely know, in my heart, will be successful. They fit the bill snuggly, a rarity compared to the fly by night antics that have destroyed much of what I’ve seen. Sadly, too many people are together for all the wrong reasons, which instantly reminded me of Jamie from years ago, how our remarkable sexual chemistry seemed to overshadow my distinctively dismal distress with her bottomless pit of personality flaws.

After dinner I was summoned by The Detonator from The Coronet, our most beloved bar in Los Angeles, so it was once again chosen as the hallowed ground for countless cocktails and mindless banter.
Z, a highly skilled and humorous bartender, is always impeccably on task at The Coronet, providing thirsty patrons with the stiffest drinks west of the Mississippi.
He’s been their figurehead for years, one of the nicest guys in L.A., and I’m proud to consider him a friend and confidant. He’s the only employee other than laid-back door guy, and because of him I have The Coronet on speed-dial. I'm convinced he's the real reason business booms.

A cameo appearance by Oscar was met with much rejoice and celebration, especially due to his recent battles in the shifty television world, all of which have been well documented by local trade publications. He always smells of lavender.
For once there weren’t many female targets to choose from, a relief considering comprehensive brain activity was still devastated from pounding booze all through the holiday season. There was only one female of value for consideration, and The Detonator’s friend Rick didn’t hesitate in making his move.
At first his advances were reciprocated with ample smiles and laughter, but I believe his overconfidence began to show after 20 minutes, leading her to never return from a trip to the bathroom. She pulled a quality ripcord, must've slipped out the back door undetected, simply vanished, a commendable accomplishment deserving of undisputed applause. To handle the rejection, Rick drowned sorrows with multiple redheaded sluts.
Alas, today I took in the fresh Los Angeles air and gathered strength for what will undeniably be an interesting week, hopefully without any unsightly turns for the worse.

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