Sloppy and Classy All in the Same Weekend

I’m a quick learner guys; instead of leaving at 5pm again this past Friday I left at 7 and made it back in 1 hour 15 minutes, which was a much better deal than last week’s 2.5 hours. And I had plenty of time to get dressed and ready for Friday night dinner at The Buffalo Club, planned a la Danny, who insisted that the hour wait for our table even though we had reservations would be well worth it. It wasn’t; my halibut that arrived around 11:15 pm was less than delightful, but the night was almost worth it just cuz I got to see a couple things that I feel only happen in LA.

One would be the $38 per person food minimum noted on the menu. This does not include drinks. Mind you many of the entrees don’t meet that minimum. Anyway, so our bill was pretty huge. We had pretty mediocre service and it was pretty disappointing, but when some of us bitched to one another about it, someone, I forget who, pointed out that they didn’t charge us for the appetizers. Oh really? Maybe that’s b/c we didn’t order them – they we part of the Buffalo Club “taking care of us.”

So aside for paying a lot for very only decent food, people in LA also apparently like to eat their pricey meals while watching go-go girls gyrate on the speakers over by the dance area. I can hear it now… “My, the béarnaise on this filet is delightfully prepared. Hey, check out the ass on that chick in the hooker outfit!”

To compensate for our hunger, we drank too much. I was two martinis and one glass of champagne in by the time my meal arrived, but by that point I had lost interest in food, so I picked at my fish and then concentrated on drinking more. We danced a lot, someone may have let someone else flirt quite overtly with them only to avoid paying attention to someone else (who is that childish?), and then we went back to an apt where several of our friends live to drink more. I pretty much passed out on the couch upon arrival only to awake confused the next morning, which is too bad, b/c apparently Eric and Victor got into a little fight which sounded somewhat amusing. Meredith walked home barefoot to her apt. (from West LA over to Brentwood…) in an effort to sober up the next morning. Personally, after brunching (ps I brunched on Sat, Sun, and Monday, which I think is the sign of a great weekend), I hit up yoga, where 10 minutes into it, the heat and movement got to me and I interrupted my “practice” to throw up.

Don’t worry, I made up for the immaturity by being extra mature at my friend Aly’s wedding on Saturday night. This wedding was amazing. Granted, “Anal” Aly (don’t worry, she asked us to call her that) is known as thus for a reason, so we were not surprised by the immaculate sense of detail, but from start to finish it was a perfect affair. The bride was beautiful, and both bride and groom smiled like goofballs the entire night. My only complaint was the lack of some nice hot Jewish boys for dancing with. Luckily the marketing girls all came into town with their dancing shoes on, so I guess that compensated.

The weekend has now ended, and to close, I just have one question. Why the f are there no fireworks in neither Manhattan nor Hermosa Beaches? That was a really bummer. I got some great beach time, I enjoyed my fourth, but I sure did miss my celestial artwork.