They always say "write what you know." That's a phrase I've come to live by my entire life because if you know me well, then you'd know that somehow, I always get myself into the most bizarre situations. Sometimes it's because of me. Sometimes it's because of my crazy friends. And sometimes, I just really think that my life is meant to be either a) a book series b) a Judd Apatow movie or c) a Thursday night sitcom on NBC.
It was Thanksgiving Eve, so my best friend and I decided to hit the town since we both had a few days off. And after working six days a week for the past six months, trust me, I needed a night out!
We went to a club called Beachers Madhouse inside The Roosevelt Hotel. As soon as we walked in, I had to triple check that I wasn't tripping on acid because it was by far the strangest place I've ever been to. Whenever somebody ordered bottle service, a midget dressed as an oompa loompa swung through the air to hand deliver their bottle of Grey Goose. I have to admit, that was pretty cool, aside from hoping that I wouldn't get raped by the old hairy 80-year-old man in leather panties (I really hope that he worked there) who kept trying to dance with me. Who ever thought of this idea for a club must have been on some serious drugs.
After the club, some friends of ours invited us to an after party somewhere in the Hollywood Hills. Not really sure of how we were going to get home, my friend and I jumped in an Escalade and hoped for the best. They took us to a mansion in Bel Air. I mean like, one of those mansions you'd see on Entourage. It was crazy!
A half hour later when everyone started doing drugs… and other stuff, I knew it was my cue to leave. But of course, the douchebags we came with left us there, the girls who we thought were "kind of" nice wouldn't give us a ride back to town even though they lived a few blocks over from us, nor would the z-list celeb who took a car service BY HIMSELF, or the girl who had a drug store in her purse (not that I would have wanted to get in a car with her). Everybody else was too messed up to tell us where we were or what the address was. Awesome!
Two hours later, we were still trying to figure out how to get home when the guy who's house it was said, "Oh, you need a cab, why don't you just call 411?" as if we were idiots. Umm, i'm sorry but is this 2003? Who calls 411 anymore, aside from the fact that we were up in the hills and had no cell phone service.
"Ugh, i'll call for you" said the douchebag, who picked up his landline and ordered us a cab. Seriously. Seriously? He couldn't have done that for us TWO HOURS AGO when we asked him? And so the cab finally pulls up… a mile away outside the gate of course! Once we got in the cabbie said "You girls walked all this way, you're lucky you didn't see any coyotes!"
And so, on this Thanksgiving day, I am thankful for always getting involved in a crazy night out. The truth is always stranger than fiction. I couldn't even make this stuff up if I tried!