13
Nov
07

Torture by Construction

It is one of the great ironies of my life (circa 2007) that I–possibly the worst insomniac/vampire bat I know–have been randomly selected by the universe to live cheek-by-hairy-jowl with a team of 20 construction workers who clock into work at 8AM. These dudes are redoing the balconies of my entire building and ruining my life in the process. Not that they try. It’s just that I am used to going to sleep at 4AM (conservatively) or 5AM (normally), and when 20 kooks start banging on the walls with hammers at the crack of 8, it DRIVES ME MAD!!

Anyway. So. Where were we? Thu., 8PM, I arrive at a wine an cheese tasting 2 hours late, shmooze with a nice man from Frank Family Vineyards (yum! to the fabulous ’98 sparkling) who lives part-time in LA, part-time in my Nor Cal homeland. I meet 3-6 Mafia (spelling?) and various other folks, but fail to recognize them. I taste Frank Family sparkling wine, Cab and Sangiovese, and determine that it’s delightful.

Thu 10PM I arrive at Katana, the see-me-oh-please-see-me spot on Sunset in LA that’s frequented by visiting execs, European birthday parties and suchlike. On the way up, a man asks me, “Are you nervous?” I answer: “No, just really stressed out, been running around all day and have no idea what my friends look like.”

Lena Giles 

10:15PM meet friends thanks to miracles of mobile technology, as truthfully couldn’t pick them out of a crowd. Actually have only met a cpl before: Giles (see photo) and his friend Jackson. Giles is a muckety-muck for Bombay Sapphire; Jackson owns a film distribution company in London. Then there is a friend, and a brother. All are complete gentlemen, thank goodnesses…. it’s never good to go on drinking rampages with people who are less than gentlemen. Prior to the real rampage, however, I have meat skewers and many cocktails and a bit of chocolate this-n-that, and we speak of business.

12AM or thereabouts we head to Skybar, which is entirely overrated and just for tourists, in case you’re wondering. Since Giles, Justin etc. are tourists (albeit of a posh British sort), they tend to hang out there often. I, however, am never impressed by it–even less than usual tonight by 1:45AM, when the women’s toilet overflows and I have to high-jump onto the counter in 4-inch heels, after countless lemon drops, to avoid the flood. On that lovely ending note, we depart Skybar.

2AM. LA sucks. It closes down completely at 2. And I always have to hear about it from any friends who are visiting from anywhere else in the world. Tonite is no different. Two of the boys are still awake and raring to go. What can I do? Our choices are 7-11, a strip club, or someone’s hotel room. I opt for A) and then B). At the 7-11, I send Justin in to purchase me Marlboro Lights (I only smoke about 4 a month), and a four-pack of AA batteries for my camera. When he returns, I realize that my camera is no longer with me. Oh. Oops. I take the batteries anyway and deposit them in my handbag. One can never have too many AA batteries.

Trashy 1 trashy2.jpgtrashy3.jpg

2:30AM We arrive at the strip club (right across from Trashy Lingerie) and sit as close to stage as possible. This proves to be a bad idea because almost no one else is there, and the few folks who are, are kind of tucked away in corners. So we get the strippers’ full and undivided attention… and in the middle of the night on a weeknight, when the talent isn’t all that great, this is a mixed blessing. Throw in the fact that they’re totally nude, and it’s no blessing at all. We sit uncomfortably, clearing our throats and feeling abashed, as girl after girl wiggles her business in our faces. Finally, when Andy Dick arrives and begins to ‘Hey baby’ me, we leave.

(Photos are of the Trashy Girls, who are hotter than the strippers I saw, but tend to keep at least a bit of their clothing on in public.)

4AM. Safely back in my house. In my bed. Had a snack. Want a snooze. As always, it’s tough to drift off. But I do, around 5:30. Ahh! Happy sigh.

8:30AM *BANG. BANG. CRASH.* the construction workers have arrived, once again.

 Note: Trashy Girls photos copyright Trashy Lingerie, 2007


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