sass sang when i dropped her off at the standard last night

it had been a totally bizarre and complete day and night.

woke up early drove to the mechanic who for some reason kept skipping over me as we talked. id be all yeah i think its my brakes, and someone else would pull in and hed excuse himself and help the person and assign a mechanic and then come back to me.

this repeated for a half hour.

when you live in hollywood you either assume its a tv show or you assume its hollywood thus totally insane.

and the weirdest thing is when i arrived he pulled up my history and clearly i had laid out some serious cash at this establishment and i was being ignored for a guy wanting an oil change.

finally signed the papers and hailed a cab. two guys in the cab. cabbie says in a perfect armenian accent, scuse us he is training. huge guy in a dirty tshirt waves.

they speed up for all the right instances but slow down as we pass an armenian church. they take in its beauty and say to me armenian church. we discuss churches as i catch up on my work emails.

an incredibly bold and daring illegal left turn is attempted but at the last minute aborted in favor of driving through the parking lot of a pizza joint. perfectly a super old man sloooooowly backs up his old man car out of his parking spot. we’re trapped as he completes an 8-point turn.

they drop me off at the dentist and the lady cleans my teeth. 80s music was on. do you think they will play 00s music in the dentist office in 30 years? what even is 00s music? britney and eminem?

took another cab back to the mechanic. pay way too much. drive to work. first stop off at jack in the crack. get to work. so not boring. teach very nice people how to use typepad. finally get to my regular work. solve all the worlds problems. have a good meeting with my boss. sxsw plans are finalized.

meanwhile karisa seems to think that we are going to dine tonight. but wait i thought you had to run 17 miles tonight. the reason karisa isnt going to sxsw, btw, shes running the la marathon. barefoot like zola budd. she was all i am running tonite but just 16 miles, but only if i can get out of work at a decent hour.

karisa hasnt been the most reliable dinner attendee so i took it with a grain of doubt cuz seriously who can totally redesign a website run half a marathon and be ready for dinner at a reasonable hour?

so when sass txted me to see what i was doing for dinner i was all look at that.

picked her and her american apparel cohort up in the lobby of the swanky hotel. they were both wearing, well, whatever it was there was a lot of leg showing and my plan of going to south central and grabbing some soul food was being voted. take us somewhere cool.

only catch was model girl couldnt eat glutton. hmmmm. she asked for a place with fried rice. sass wanted sushi. best sushi in lil tokyo is hama. but theyre good cuz they dont have a lot of crap on the menu. we were certain they woudlnt have fried rice. and they didnt so we went next door to T.O.T. and were very pleased.

poor girls hadnt eaten all day. sass said that they were gonna spend the night at the hotel and didnt feel like partying. asked if i had any good books to read. so i gave her a copy of stiff that i had just found, cruddy by lynda barry, and scar tissue by anthony keidis. on the way back to downtown, who says she will be ready at 10:30?

so wait does this mean two dinners? i think it does. fortunately i could probably eat five if you put a gun to my head. at 10:31 there she was, hair blowing in the wind, and a greeting thatd be music to anyones ears: imma drink lots of sake.

a close second would be “im wearing a bacon bra“

sushi was served. sake was poured. then some badass sake was served and i realized we hadnt dranken any water had any beer or any soda. sake. food. sake. food. needless to say an excellent conversation was had including photographic evidence from both parties.

and even though i had a delicious scoop of green tea ice cream with one of those chocolate cookie straws, these words appeared in front of me as i drove home

perfect nights should end creme filled

so i stopped past randys donuts, saw a cop car looking at a fat lady in a halter, figured she couldnt possibly be a hooker, and drove off.

randys is a drive thru donut store so as i was driving through i noticed that whoops, she probably was, uh, loitering.

or it could be a tv show.

or just LA not sucking.