I’m still here, I promise! I have to admit, it’s darn hard to make time for writing when the sun is shining outside. Perhaps it’s finally time for me to upgrade the battery on my ancient HP laptop (she’s over eight years old!), so I can write while out and about as opposed to being chained to the wall for every post. Currently, this is my running excuse to sit down and watch “The Bachelorette” every Monday night. Don’t judge me.
I digress, as is usual. I spent this past weekend driving up and down the coast of California, specifically to celebrate my dear friend Rachel’s birthday. Yes, I have two “dear-friend-Rachels” in my life. I got to spend time with both of them this weekend, just to make things confusing. After her relocation to the LA area, I haven’t been able to see Rachel as much as I once used to, but her birthday made for the perfect occasion to pay her a visit. It’s a rather long drive to LA to have to navigate solo, so I made one trip into two, and paid my friends Maren and Xela a visit at their lovely home in San Luis Obispo as well. I’ve grown to know and love that town over the years, so it deserves a post all to itself in the near future.
Aside from a really annoying mishap with Google Maps that took me roughly 90 minutes out of the way from my final destination, my LA visit was pure, long-overdue fun. In a nutshell, there was a penthouse, a rooftop party, and some late night dancing at a speakeasy-themed cocktail lounge. All very exciting things.
The rooftop view of downtown LA.
So excited to push this button.
One good thing about the overcast sky: hot tub time! Undoubtedly the best view from a hot tub, ever! Rumor has it, Johnny Depp lives in that art deco-style Eastern building.
Blue velvet birthday cake. Yummy. I spontaneously broke into a warbling version of Lana Del Rey’s “Blue Velvet” many times that night.
Go through the parking lot and stand in line in the alleyway to find Honeycut. In case you didn’t know, the dancing is that way…
We made a lot of friends. This gentleman in particular had some snazzy sunglasses he shared with the birthday girl.
I drank something called the “Babyface,” which was reminiscent of a smoky strawberry margarita. Even better than the cocktails, though, was the light-up dance floor. Add in a little Amy Winehouse, 70’s/80’s music, and a splash of Lil’ Wayne, and you have a party. To top it all off, I wore my “Ain’t No Wifey” shirt from Dimepiece LA and got a ton of compliments. I even bonded with the club’s bouncer over it. As uniquely strange as I found LA to be in some instances, I apparently fit in rather well. This shouldn’t really be a surprise, since I’m rather strange myself.