Steppin’ Out on the Town
It is becoming the increasingly rare occasion that I leave the offices of Poop or Chocolate, so when I do I like to come back replete with big-city tales of mischief or intrigue. Or both. Mistrigue. I ventured out to a bar tonight to celebrate the birthday of my friend Sarah who is in this movie called “Whip It” that comes out in the Fall. I should’ve posted the trailer here awhile ago, but no better day to atone for that mistake than on her birthday. In this trailer she plays the mean girl in the diner scene though in real life she is in fact super-duper nice. She does frequent diners, however. That part is true.
So there ya go. Looks like a pretty cool movie, especially if you like girls playing rough together, which I do. So happy birthday, Sarah! And happy birthday, me! Anyway, back to the bar. We went to this wonderfully archaic new speakeasy in West Hollywood called The Roger Room that serves these fancy drinks that seem overpriced until you realize how good they make you feel. I ordered something called Death in the Afternoon, which I can assure you is just as deadly in the nighttime. It’s made of the simple combination absinthe and champagne (y’know, the way Swiss hookers like it) and though I can’t say I particularly enjoy either of those tastes individually, together they taste like bliss. If you’ve never had it before, absinthe is basically a black licorice-flavored liquid drug. If you have had it before, don’t tell me you’ve never taken liquid drugs unless you are a liar. To put it incoherently, the stuff makes my entire body feel like a giant floating boner. Is there a price too high for feeling like a giant floating boner? Possibly, but it’s not fifteen bones, which is what I paid. If you think that’s outrageous then you don’t know what a giant floating boner feels like.
It is custom in this great land of ours to consume cake of some sort on birthdays and this birthday was no exception. The cake we ate was of the “cup” variety and this proved profoundly wise, as The Roger Room forbids its customers from using knives due to insurance liability. At first it seemed strange that insurance would disallow us from wielding the knife that sliced our dessert, but as the place began to fill up we realized this concern was less with us slicing our cake and more with us slicing our fellow patrons. While no one there was distinguishably unlikeable most of the customers had a look that might uncontrollably force you to stab them if they were slightly too close and you were in possession of a sharp thing. Crimes of passion aren’t always about love. Sometimes they’re just about feeling another man’s whiskey breath on your neck in close quarters when you’ve been boozing.
I’ve got to tell you about these cupcakes now. They came from a place called Sprinkles where the cupcakes are so good that sometimes I check my calendar just to see whose birthday is next so we can enjoy them again. If you are dying in Los Angeles tomorrow and someone offers you either the most potent, mind-altering narcotic or one of these cupcakes, take the cupcake. If someone offers you the cure for your ailment or one cupcake, take the cupcake. If you are offered a blow job from the girl of your dreams or one cupcake, take the blow job. What are you, an idiot? Take the blow job! Can I watch? Come on, it’s my friend’s birthday. On second thought, take the drug and the cure, too. But the cupcakes are REALLY FUCKING GOOD.
In general my night on the town was REALLY FUCKING GOOD. It started with my dad and sushi dinner at Katsuya in West Hollywood; a place that serves a rock shrimp dish I would unquestionably murder for (at least until someone told me I could have the rock shrimp in exchange for money instead of murders, at which point I would at least cut back on murdering). And the night ended with me here blogging about it to you fine people. With friends, a birthday, some absinthe, and a couple cupcakes in between, I’d call this night a smashing success.
At least until the absinthe hangover sets in. Giant floating boners feel like piss in the morning.
My name is Ben and I blogged this.
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