Monday, November 21, 2005

We like to party? Da, Comrades!

When Eric "Snow-Dawg" Snow called to say that he was bringing all six feet five inches of his lovely self down from SF to visit my city of angels, I knew I had to plan a shindig to celebrate his descent. I'm not sure how it ended up being communist in theme, but hey - I like pierogies, and there was a pair of red fishnets wrapped docilely in the drawer that were just burnin' to be worn.

It was a great party. Eric and I stayed up until 4 in the morning, long after the rest of the guests had found soft spots around the house to curl up into. He's making the big move from the small-pond industry in SF to the vast ocean that is the L.A. entertainment machine, and he's understandably apprehensive. I always hesitate to use the phrase "everything will be just fine" in these situations, because quite honestly it's not often true (in the way that folks intend it to be, anyway.) I'll try to take good care of him once he lands here, at least; he's a terrific A.D., and that's a skill that will serve him well as he's acclimating.

Plus, I showed him Trogdor. Nothing can make you feel better like a little bit o' the Burninator when you're feeling ill at ease. Check out his majesty!

The raspberry vodka infusion turned out fabulously, by the way. I kinda want to make a big batch and bathe in it.

Spent the Saturday daytime run-up to the party in downtown, practicing my Japanese on the innocent waitresses at Suehiro and buying armfuls of flowers and potted plants for the house. I have purchased my very first Bonsai, which is parked proudly in the prized spot above the kitchen sink, and a lovely little lucky bamboo arrangement to inject a little feng shui into my wabisabi little house.

I can feel my Taurus on the upswing. As my Aries retreats, I'm starting to lust over paint and fabric and warm things to festoon the nest with. I find myself touching everything...strolling the vast expanse of the Los Angeles Flower Mart, my hands seemed to snake into all the bins of their own accord, fondling rose petals and orchids (gorgeous, healthy orchid plants, wholesaling for $7, everybody!) and spiky junipers and the fuzz on the gerbera daisy stems. I stuck my entire arms into the huge bins of peacock feathers and dipped my hands into the buckets of soft, cool sea glass. I pressed my face into so many flowers that I ended up sporting a little orange dot of pollen at the end of my nose.

Sunday meant a big group breakfast at the Coral Cafe, followed closely by Space Mtn's instore at Sea Level Records. They played a good set (bonus - a first track off the album they're currently recording, which is quite a beautiful four minutes and made me think I want to sing it to somebody) and was a fun band to meet. Then we popped back some espresso and jetted off to see Harry Potter a the always-breathtaking Vista yesterday evening. Christoper Nolan was sitting behind us, and it pleased me greatly to hear his little yips of delight harmonizing with our squealings.

Then there was a tremendously satisfying grilled-veggie stack sandwich on pesto-drenched panini between the exposed brick walls of The Kitchen, and we were off to the Blackheart Procession show at Spaceland. I was offically three sheets to the wind on overstimulation and lack of sleep, and I'm fairly sure I made a rather silly picture there in the smoking bar, lips fixed firmly on my Red Stripe, nibbling the glass and looking totally handicapped. Jeff made buddies with the band, though, and I was able to chat up sweet Brian from the Silversun Pickups. So it was worth the wobble home at 2 A.M., I suppose.

Whew. I am so. Tired. Somebody give me my pacifier and tuck me in.

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