A and I embarked on an adventure on Saturday night asking the question, how do you have fun in LA for under $10? The answer - get food poisoning, or something like it.
After the political potluck, A met me at our house for a guerilla expedition to enjoy the world's best espresso machine happily situated in the break room of her office. The night was full of many snags to begin with. When she arrived, she realized that she forgot her keys, and I was a little cranky from the pirates of the caribbean battle raging inside me. We got as far as a block when I asked her to return to my house for a poopy pit stop.
We got to her building in Century City - the City of the Future, but were not allowed access to the office, unless she was willing to pay $280 for a locksmith to let us in. The guy with the big key ring wasn't in on weekends we found out. That was a huge disappointment for me because I was planning on using that toilet and now I had to wrap my mind around clenching my sphincter for a much longer, unimaginable stretch. We went somewhere else to have our $10 adventure to find it was closed. More extended length clenching for me. We augmented our adventure to Kombucha at Whole Foods Fairfax then compulsive shopping at The Grove across the street. I felt shocked and frankly a little paralyzed by the sign at the Whole Foods restroom - Closed Until Further Notice.
Ben noted in his post that I might be blogging about the cake I brought to political potluck. He was right. As I stood there, nearly in tears at the restroom closed sign, some mental images of the day came feeding back to me with HD clarity and it was the cake. The cake, I reasoned is the cause of all my woes. That cake is still sitting at Ben and his Public Defender girlfriend's house for them to enjoy and stuff more e.coli down their cake holes. I alerted Ana to this, I alerted Ben's Public Defender girlfriend to this by voicemail and Ana drove me home immediately so I could puke up the pizza that A, my boyfriend and I enjoyed earlier in the day at Hard Times Pizza, and then later I'd be spending the entire night, ass suctioned to the toilet seat, somehow, strangely feeling grateful for this life, these friends, this boyfriend, this city, and this sad and misguided adventure.
And that is how you can have fun in L.A. for under $10.
4 comments:
Yirko-No one else ate the cake, further intestinal disasters averted.
p.s. The lawyer broke your plate. Did you know that already?
p.p.s. We should try for "Under $10" again and bring a little porta-potty.
No, I just got that plate as part of a set. Looks like I'll have to haul it over to the bric a brac section Altadena TJ Maxx to re-complete it.
The best was when you said: "The cake! Oh no...[public defender girlfriend's name]!" and reached quickly for your phone. It was totally like the twist, ah-ha moment in one of those bad thriller films.
How can Whole Foods sell all that tempeh and other high-fiber food and not keep a bathroom open?
I feel your pain. I've had to defecate in numerous gay bars because beer is a laxative for me. All the anxiety of trying to find a husband didn't help.
FYI: Martin Amis's book Money has a brilliant description of someone dying to go to the bathroom in public and being thwarted at every turn.
My verification word is "deviet." Is Blogspot owned by someone who voted Yes on 8?
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