A cameraphone journey of my meals in Los Angeles

Here are some details from the LA trip, as remembered in terms of food.

Friday, 1/19

Event: screenwriter karaoke.
Comment: Everyone is young except for me and El Jefe. Their Blink 182 is our Counting Crows. My knockoff department store “España” track jacket rules, even in Hollywood.
Food: No formal meal the first night, just a pre-hottub ad hoc sandwich of cheese+pretzel bits on hamburger bun, i.e., the most delicious thing on the planet if you’ve been drinking (oh, yes, in a very context-specific manner, I drink while on vacation).
Of note: The furnace is shot. I wear my winter bike commuter lycra for pajamas, and mildly creep out everyone in the house.

Saturday, 1/20

Events: hike/walk in Griffith Park (i.e., the Hollywood sign); driving tour of LA and up the coast to Malibu; screenwriter/actor/model party.
Comment: Everyone is young and successful except for me and El Jefe. I avert my eyes from celebrities. Pedigree checkers are horrible, empty people. I am in love with my state university education. Even the bartender looked like Amanda Peet. Yes, I get it, women in Hollywood really are beautiful.
Food: In-n-Out burger (not pictured); brilliant seafood in Malibu; party Krispy Kremes (not pictured).

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Sunday, 1/22

Events: driving tour + walking paths of Hollywood hills; LaBrea tar pits; genius improv (Upright Citizen’s Brigade); late night howling and vibing in a Bukowski-esque bar.
Comment: LA is one big tourist attraction unless you’re there operating amongst “industry” folk, in which case, LA is one big networking opportunity. El Jefe is likely the funniest human being I know.
Food: Armenian (dainnnng!); Brazilian (double-dang, not pictured).

 

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Monday, 1/23

Events: the wind-down; coffeeshop studying near American Pie cast member.
Comment: I am as tall as Jason Biggs, who, sadly, doesn’t look very tall onscreen.
Food: sushi; airport Chili’s (not pictured).

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It was, indeed, the greatest food weekend since Thanksgiving. Waiting at the airport, I once again fell in love in Norah Jones. And I once again fell in love with the idea of my bachelorhood. At the same time, I once again fell in love with the idea of all-in with a soulmate. That weekend, I noticed a sweetness in El Jefe I’d not ever seen before, and it had all to do with the lady. It looked really, really nice. And it’s taking all of my strength and good taste not to close with some ham-handed reference to it being a “Hollywood ending.” Ahhh crap!

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~ by TGV on January 30, 2007.

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