You're Invited (Not Really): My First LA Dinner Party

So far my hospitality posts (and now that I think about it, my hospitality itself) have exclusively covered one-on-one, extended visits. But about a year ago, I invited a group of friends to my then-new apartment for some conversation, over/undercooked food, and enough booze to erase all of it. I thought they'd forget. They didn't! After several postponements, the time has finally come. The time...for a dinner party.

THE INSPIRATION

My love for Amy Sedaris began with the cult series Strangers with Candy and was recently revived by her often disgusting, surprisingly useful party guide I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. My appreciation of this lady is shared by...

THE GUESTS

Eight in number, fabulous in nature. A ragtag team I met when I first came to Los Angeles, and part of the reason I decided to keep coming back. Here are three of them. They deserve a fine meal, no?

THE MEAL

Aggressively middle-America, with a touch of spice to distract from the poor preparation. Chili fried chicken, Grandma Van Luchene's potato salad, and jalapeño cornbread. 

Can I manage? Who cares, because there's always...

THE DRINK

I found this on some old codger's dinky website, but 1) it looks pretty, inexpensive and refreshing, 2) I love to muddle, and 3) old people really, really know their drinks. 

1 lime, quartered
2 sprigs fresh mint leaves
1 tablespoon white sugar
2 slices cucumber
2 ounces white rum
4 ounces club soda

You squeeze the lime in, muddle the mint leaves and sugar, throw in the cucumbers, then finish with the rum and club soda. Easy!

Keep your fingers crossed, pray to whatever culinary gods you believe in, and stay tuned.

Everyone in Los Angeles seems to celebrate Independence Day the night before. Is it because they party hard and anticipate a long, glamorous hangover? Do they need a full day of yoga to work off those two ears of corn? These are the tough questions. 

I know one thing: I'll be celebrating waist-deep in the pool of a good friend, possibly under the influence and definitely surrounded by handsome, shirtless young gay men. Because this is AMERICA, dammit! 

The Standard Downtown's painfully fabulous roof (photo courtesy of Oyster)

Ooooh, now I'm all worked up! How about a little liberal spice on your potato salad, heh?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/adam-winkler/a-day-to-make-news_b_888728.html

Norma Jean

I've never understood the Marilyn Monroe thing, but this girl is awfully sweet.

Amadeus

Woody Allen once said that Mozart's Symphony 41 proved the existence of God. For me, it's this:

And here's a surprising, incredibly beautiful vocal version featured in last year's Bright Star. 

Cheap Thrills & Motor Skills

I make my own cards these days. Like a kindergartner, I apparently have lots of time on my hands. Paper cuts, too! 

Weather Post

You know how annoying it is when someone gums up your news feeds with inane weather updates? Yeah, I hate that. But: 

It's prettiest here when it rains.

The Doors

Looking through pictures on my phone, I noticed a strange pattern. J'adore the door. Specifically:

"Pretty Door" (Hollywood)

"Kitty Door" (My apartment, Los Angeles)

"Neighbor Door" (Los Angeles)

 "Holy Door" (Chimayo, NM)

And "LOL Door" (George and Dragon Pub, Phoenix)

Boy Trouble

It could just be that I'm getting old, but I can't seem to tell one privileged, sexually ambiguous TV high schooler from another anymore. 

Daniel Flaherty as Stanley on MTV's Skins and Sebastian of  Bravo's NYC Prep

This lot is even more confusing:

 

NYC Prep's PC Peterson, James Newman of Skins, and Gossip Girl's Penn Badgley

The gold standard:

Eat your heart out, boys.

Let Me Entertain You

I am by no means a great hostess. On the Dracula to Martha Stewart spectrum, I rank a little below Miss Havisham. I still don't have a couch. I can't cook. I always seem to have some personal disaster moments before the arrival of my visitor - once it was a leaking toilet, once the pilot light in my gas stove blew out. It never ends. Thankfully, I'm better outside of the domestic sphere. I can plan a Los Angeles tour like nobody's business, baby. And I'm talking a tour for anybody - a jaded hipster, a conservative relative, a Standard Poodle, you name it. It delights me that I can modify a very basic 3-day agenda for any kind of out-of-towner and, because it's L.A., I'll still never run out of things to do!

I had a chance to test this theory last week when one of my favorite guests flew in. This gentleman, an East Coast dandy, had visited before. We'd already hit all the necessary tourist stuff (Grauman's Chinese Theater, Sunset, the Griffith Observatory, et cetera). We'd also rushed through some out-of-the-way attractions, like the Watts Towers and Malibu's Matador Beach. My guest particularly loved Angel's Flight and MOCA in the downtown area, even though a tweaker hollered at him ("ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME? HUH?! COME HERE") and shattered his (500) Days of Summer fantasy.

This second visit was more improvised, a chance to enjoy some of the offbeat places I love without the pressure of a rigid agenda. The only thing we really scheduled were naps. Visit #2 in photos:

 

The friendly freakshow that is Venice Beach

Some unlucky shmuck mastadon at the La Brea tar pits

 

A visit to my neighborhood bakery

 

Immaturity at LACMA

 A drive past Pink's (as usual, the line was just too damn long)

 Culver City's bizarre Museum of Jurassic Technology (look it up)

 

And finally, a monstrous tamarind mojito at Silverlake's Gingergrass

We also saw Mindy Kaling at Joan's on 3rd, but were far too cool to ask for/sneak the photographic proof.

I suppose I like having visitors so much because, aside from the obvious benefits of company and entertainment, it helps me reactivate my excitement and pride in L.A. It forces me off my computer and out of my apartment, and I almost always like what I find outside. Unless it's a NO PARKING sign. 

Or a screaming junkie.

Hot Stuff

Made an impromptu midweek jaunt to the desert, a naughty habit of mine ever since I moved back West. I used this particular visit as an opportunity to rediscover myself amidst a striking yet familiar landscape...oh, who am I kidding? I just wanted to break in my new desert boots! I do love a theme...

Desert boots, desert flora

Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

I started coming here for a boy. Then I started coming here for myself. Then I moved to New York because the rent was free and I was an aimless, slightly manic 19-year-old who had nothing better to do, and after that I moved to DC to try something more traditional. The point is I’ve lived in a lot of places. I chose Los Angeles. And as much as I love it and hope this journal will convince you to visit, let’s not be ridiculous here! I don’t want it to read as some kind of oozing postcard from an endless vacation. Thus, some promises and warnings:

In keeping with the title, I’ll refrain from topics too profound or disagreeable. There’s another Shallow End hosted by Blogspot, but she writes about deep things. Babies. Cancer. Babies with cancer. It should be easy not to confuse us.

I live decidedly removed from the glamour and excess of this place, and only really dip my toe in the hip bar/restaurant/shopping scenes, partly because I was developing a complex when I looked around and realized no one else was eating. I do occasionally see celebrities and projects filming, but the rest is pretty low-key. I walk to the LA Zoo a couple times a week. I like taco trucks an awful lot. I’m situated across from the Equestrian Center at Griffith Park. It's peaceful.

My view (photo courtesy of Mike Slaven)

Do you think Los Angeles is soulless? That's alright, it's probably justified. This place has its issues - I have to worry about earthquakes and Scientologists and Lindsay Lohan hitting me with her car. But I still love it. I love the taut, Botoxed sheen of Beverly Hills and the rocky, overcrowded beaches and the awkward, neverending "transition" of Downtown. Here's hoping my blog gets as much traffic as my adopted home - maybe you'll start to like it, too.

Diving In

Anyone who's anyone blogs these days. Now I'm anyone. Jealous?

Welcome!