Where were we? Oh yeah day after peeing in bottle.
So it's Wednesday morning. I wake up on Ryan's couch ready to take on a fresh new Californian day. Ryan displays two tiny bottles of champagne he has bought for me, to celebrate my pitches. He suggests we mix them with his blood orange juice and make mimosas. I have no objections.
I have nothing planned until 2pm. After a short discussion of our options, I chose door number 1, a trip to the original Bat-Cave. This is the cave that they used in the 1960s series. Whenever you would see the Bat-Mobile tearing ass out of a cave to save Gotham, this was what you saw.
We walked through the very short man made hole, or "cave" as it's called, and emerged on the other side. You could practically feel the history seeping out of the ground. Then we took a piss.
We made our way around the back of the cave and noticed the two hills on the other side perfectly framed the Hollywood sign.
Literally ONE second after this photo was taken, an incredibly skinny effeminate older man in shorts with a chihuahua approached us and asked if we were tourist or if we were from the area. We politely informed him we were in fact both of those things.
If you know me at all, you know I'm incredibly polite and accommodating with people I don't know, and if Ryan hadn't been there, there's a good possibility I would still be there talking to this dude. In hindsight our prescience wasn't necessary for the conversation to begin with, seeing as how it was extremely one sided.
After I told him I lived in Atlanta, he told me how hot it was there, then followed that statement up with, "I've never been there." At this point we knew we needed to make a hasty retreat. He asked me when my birthday was, and being very polite, I told him. He then pulled out an incredibly tattered piece of paper from his wallet, looked at it, and proceeded to tell me I must have had a troubled childhood. I confirmed I indeed did not have a troubled childhood. He showed me the piece of paper, which had all the cards from a deck of playing cards on it. He said I was a 3 of hearts which meant I was all about giving. At this point my mind had melted and was oozing out of my nose. Ryan had been interjecting several derogatory things, trying to unlatch this mans mental hold on me. Finally we escaped his evil clutches. I realized to late as we walked away that one of us should have shouted, "To the BatCave!" And ran off. The best ideas always come 4 seconds to late.
Lunch time was approaching and of the many suggestions given, I chose Cuban sandwiches at a place in downtown LA. We made the drive. After hopelessly scouting, we find a parking place for the nominal fee of 9 bucks. The place Ryan takes me is tucked back, almost hidden in a breezeway between two high rises that housed lawyers and such.
There was a long line, but it went fast and was well worth it.
I like spicy stuff, so I grabbed a bag of these:
Having been let down so many times before by consumer products promising to be "flaming", "fire" or "3 alarm"; I wasn't convinced. My reservations however were unwarented. These little babies could peel paint. And here's why:
Next up Ryan took me a rather scenic route to check out the public library/homeless shelter.
This place was enormous and the insides were spectacular. These pictures don't really do it justice.
After checking out a couple of the exhibits, and avoiding stepping foot in ANY of the public restrooms therein, we made our way to the next stop on Ryan's downtown tour. The 27th floor of the Court House.
I had trepidation about this choice at first, but Ryan assured me it was a little known LA treasure. After going UG to the 27th floor...
...Ryan was right. We were treated to a 360 degree view of LA, and there was absolutely no one up there.
We repelled down the side of the building and made our way to the next stop. For all the film enthusiasts out there, this is the building where they shot a good portion of the Harrison Ford classic Blade Runner.
Again the pictures don't do this place justice. The wood and ironwork were amazing. We did have to terminate several rouge robots harboring complex moral and ethical questions about the concept of life, but that's pretty much how I roll on a daily basis.
It was getting close to the time I needed to head down to San Clemente, so we made the last stop in LA, a pirate bar.
After a dark and stormy and enduring a very talkative bartender, we went back to home base.
I didn't leave for San Clemente until 3:30pm and found out real quick that I should have hustled to leave a lot sooner. After 2 and half hours in traffic I arrive at O Entertainments new facilities. I was greeted by all my old DNA buddies that work there and given a tour of the place by my friend Jake. It's an amazing space, alas I have no pictures to prove it.
After a bit we left to go to Irvine and have half price sushi and sake. Joining me for the festivities were Ben, Jake, Paul, and Jason. The friend I stayed with last time, Vanessa, met us there. It was a great evening of raw fish and hot alcohol.
Upon completing the festivities, Vanessa and I retreated to her hood at Seal Beach in the OC. We arrived around 11pm and decided to keep the party train rolling down the track. The first bar we walked into was full of what appeared to be loud inebriated 18-year-olds. I insisted we not stay for fear of getting douche bag all over my shirt.
The second bar we went to was pretty much empty AND they were doing karaoke! One of the nights topics happened to be Christopher Walkin and with that topic comes my obligatory terrible impression of Mr. Walkin. It's actually just an amalgamation of everyone else's impression. At any rate, I was making all kinds of noise about how I wanted to sing "Walking on Sunshine" AS Walkin. After Vanessa let me out of her very persuasive choke hold, I wondered up and put in my name, or rather the name "Christopher". I started singing and people slowly began to "get it". Laugher insued. The 50 something year old Karaoke DJ was standing behind me and didn't seem to understand what I was doing. I leaned back and clued him into the gag. He nodded. We cool.
As if not to be over shadowed by my awesomely hilarious bit, the Karaoke DJ immediately sang the hit "How's your hole... family" A song that goes from "cute", to "we get it", to "how the fuck long is this song anyway", real fast.
It was a fun night, but I could tell by the blank look in V's eyes that the party train had derailed and it was time to stumble home.
I'll end this broadcast day with a cute picture of Vanessa's new neighbor's dogs nose, that he kept shoving under the gate to smell stuff.
More trip to come....