A Clearer Perspective

That is what this town has given me.

It's truly amazing. All of a sudden I am able to see everything so clearly. About life. And people. And me. It's all very simple. I feel free.

I can't quite explain what this all means. Just that I so need to be here. It's the best thing I've ever done for myself. So next time you feel an urge, follow it. Don't push it back into the depths of your heart for ten years like I did. It's there for a reason. And you'll never be happier.

I am finally home.

*****

Now, off to the Halloween festivities. I've lived here less than a month and I've never been invited to so many parties in one night in my life. And not having a costume didn't help. But thanks to my new $2/year membership to Trashy Lingerie (they sell Halloween costumes, so don't get any ideas) and my new blue wig, I'm set.

It's looking like we'll end up in Beverly Hills. I'm ready to see the sunrise.

A-round, A-round, A-round, A-round...

Over. Under. And through.

'Tis where I've been since Sunday night at The Improv (famous comedy club out here). After seeing my new friend partner in crime do some theatre at The Second City, it was Jill, Bill, Phil, and Malani drinking, chatting, and eating. All we needed was Gil and we could've been running Kermit's ad agency in The Muppets Take Manhattan. Fun times. So me and the girl planned our Tuesday night singer/songwriter outing. But that comes later.

Monday was one of those strange "start drinking at noon days" where you just can't seem to get back to normal. It all started with a fab long lost cousin meeting. The place was Casa Vega in the valley. The cousins were Chris and Lynne. Never met them before but knew they were out here so they took me out for lunch. And margaritas. And more margaritas. Did someone say top shelf tequila? Oh...another? Why thank you. Along with Chilaquiles (my new obsession that you must try), it was bliss.

On the way back through Hollywood I passed Jason's house so I decided, why not? Watched the Japanese film, Chiyo, that he directed earlier this year while being attacked by Seymour (his dog who enjoys licking the hell out of me whenever the opportunity presents itself). After getting my foreign film of the day in, I stumbled back to my apartment where my roommate kept on telling me how loaded I was. What a better time to throw in High Fidelity. So we watched our first DVD in our new LA apartment together. Awwwwwww.

Tuesday brought some interesting fun. I worked on finishing up decorating the place and dug for jobs on the internet. Then it was singer/songwriter time at Room Five Lounge (Newton! This is where you come in!!!) with Malani. Think The Basement but way classier. Way more intimate. And way more LA.

Then it was Dance Party USA time. Word on the street was that Canters Deli had a bad ass DJ every Tuesday night. Now I've had my share of DJ's, and I know that they're not all as bad ass as everyone says they are. Not this Judd Nelson looking cat. He surpassed bad ass as he played a Franz Ferdinand intro that went into Gorillaz right as we walked in.

It went on from there...and such was my first girly night out in Los Angeles.

PS - If anyone knows what the HELL is wrong with Blogger and why I can't post any pictures EVER...I'd love to know the trick. Because quite frankly, it's PISSING ME OFF!!

Uptown Girl: The Week In Review

And I've been living in an uptown world. The past five nights non-stop.

(I love how now that I have a digital camera and some bad ass pictures to post, that blogger is being a huge piece of crap and won't let me post anything. /*&$@#(*&@^!!!!)

After days of unpacking and decorating, I was ready to get the hell out of the place for a bit. What a better reason to reunite with one of my fave high school and acting buds, Pat. So after ten years having not seen each other, he picked me up and introduced me to what could possibly be my favorite neighborhood bar. Definitely walkable. No relation to Slash, it's called the Snake Pit on Melrose. Very hip. Cool. Rocker. And they serve Stella on tap.

From there we hit somewhere that slips my mind at the moment because it was already five days ago and my memory sucks. But we ended up tanked at Damiano's, an after hours pizza joint and demolished an entire pizza between the two of us.

Thursday night was a Fairfax night. Hit several places along the way, including The Dime (another great neighborhood almost but not quite dive bar) and Nova Express. Think Mellow Mushroom but with aliens and spaceships. Both were fab. And great for stumbling home from.

Friday night was a dinner party at Nic's Martini Lounge in Beverly Hills. I had heard alot about it, but going out on a Friday night to Beverly Hills isn't really on the agenda when you're jobless. Holy crap!! Best filet I've had in years. Smothered in blueberries (who knew?) and served with onion rings (the best ever) along with the top shelp martinis reminded me that the pitas and hummus I've been living off of really aren't that nourishing after all. Very very posh. Mmmmmmmmm.

(See, technically this should've been like a few different posts, because then it wouldn't be so journalistic. Apologies...when you're moving and trying to live the nightlife, it's hard to find time to write about it when your spare time is usually spent napping for whatever the next night might bring.)

At any rate, I digress. Saturday I had the distinct pleasure of seeing my boyfriend, Dave Grohl play with his band the Foo Fighters at the Long Beach Arena (which is covered by the world's largest mural!!!) with the WOO! guy, Chernobes. Floor tickets and arena rock all in one. We missed the Hot Hot Heat portion and caught about half of Weezer. Foo were freakin' awesome, as usual, even though the "arena rock" vibe took away from the coolness of a more intimate show. Weezer played well, but I still wanted to slap the Buddy Holly right out of them.

After the six pack in the car on the way down the 101 and the $40 worth of beer consumed at the show, it was chicken and waffle time at Roscoe's before the trek back to Hollywood.

As I sit here trying to hold my eyes open and keep myself from nodding off I still have no regrets...absolutely in heaven here.

I Am Rob

I've said it a million times before, but time and time again, I am Rob from High Fidelity. I know many of us are, but let me bask in the glorious moment while it's here. And not a waste of time, for once.

Re-organizing my CD collection is more addicting to me than heroin. (Not that I've ever tried the ol' white heat, but that's what I hear.) And what a better time to re-vamp then while I'm unpacking from this 2,000 mile trek I've made across the country. I'll admit, I re-organized as I was packing them up, too. (With the help of my little brother that I miss so much.) But there were still tweaks to be made. Categories to be added. CD's to be sold.

So I've got them up on the shelves, alphabetized by band name (or solo artists' last name), and categorized into several different genres. I had to be responsible and pull myself away for the evening, since I have my first live-and-in-person California interview tomorrow in Beverly Hills!!! at the crack of dawn. So tomorrow afternoon, it's trade the oldies in for some cash flow at Amoeba Music. More shelf space, man. More shelf space.

The trick is to see if I can walk out with the cash.

Or will it be a bag full of new records???

Sidenote: Thanks to my eclectic readers (or should I say commenters), I got a hit from a google search for bob barker boobs. I mean really, people. Don't they know that Bob Barker doesn't have boobs?!? At least, not the kind of boobs they're searching for.

Movers, Margaritas & Ashlee S.

After a Saturday of unpacking for fifteen hours (the movers finally came!!) and a margarita-filled Sunday with old and new friends alike at Merix in West Hollywood (and more making this place feel lived in), I'm going to try and muster up a few words for your joyous Monday morning back in the office.

I have a funny story. The first celeb related story, if you will. I'm keeping my promise that there won't be an overload of celeb talk on SSW...unless I'm directly involved. Take Friday night for example. One of my new friends managed to drag me out of my cave late evening, despite the fact that the movers were coming at 7:30a the next morning, to go out for Stella or two (or three or six).

We spent the majority of the time at Birds, a hip little hang in Hollywood. But, keeping to the tradition of my continuing Los Angeles education, we stopped at one more place before we headed home. Just so I could see. A little (or not so little) English pub called The Cat & The Fiddle. We had a nice cozy spot at the empty bar out on the patio. It was one of those deep in conversation and not paying attention to anything else nights, however, we happened to notice Ashlee Simpson and her friends at the next table. I'm not a fan, but this was my first "sighting" since I've been out here so it was kind of cool. I left my sis a message (she is a fan) and forgot about it.

At one point we began to get silly and Jason (the guy I was with) made a funny noise at me. At the same time I started to laugh, a girl comes up from behind and goes, Um, did you just make that noise at ME?!?. He turned around and goes, No, I didn't make a noise at YOU, I made it at her (motioning to me). The world doesn't revolve around you!! So after I realize it's Ashlee making a scene on her way out, I whip (insert whip sound) around with my best smug look on to see her friend come running up telling us not to make noises at her friend. Then they slithered off into the shadows. I guess when the press rags on you all the time it's harder to take the heat. Even if the heat has nothing to do with you. Classic.

Anyway, we carried on, he dropped me off, and then it was sleep time. As it is now.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz...

The MySpace Plunge

I've taken it. I've caved. I've been sucked in.

Dammit.

Wings & Beer, Hollywood Style

So there really isn't such a thing as a sports bar in Hollywood. And oddly enough, I've been craving a good, old-fashioned, beer and sports night out. (I know, weird.) So me and my fellow midwesterner friend turned Californian (also known as the WOO! guy) went out and did what a good midwesterner should do during the finale of the baseball season: headed up to Big Wangs, the closest thing to a sports bar that this town has to offer.

The games were won and lost, the wings were devoured, and the two large pitchers of Stella disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. For dessert, we split a double jalapeno hot dog. I was not aware of the jalapeno part until I realized that my mouth was on fire. I downed the last glass of Stella to wash the burn away, and then ran out with two slightly used Stella glasses for our collection. Sometimes you just gotta do whatcha gotta do.

Our friends at The Burgundy Room

A hop, skip and a stumble later, we were at The Burgundy Room, which later turned into the spinning room. One of my fave bars out here, I hadn't been in years, so I was excited. We proceeded to have a photo shoot, act like drunk assholes, and drink waaaaay too much. So much, that I couldn't tell you what happened after we left. The hangover didn't come until this evening, and I would venture to guess it was because I was drunk for a good portion of the day.

I know what you're thinking. She's not working, what does she care if she gets loaded? She gets to sleep all day. Not so much the case. I had a lunch today with a Nashville buddy at Silver Spoon, which apparently was a hangout of John Lennon's (had I known that when I was there, it would've been a different story). Choked down the french toast and eggs. Don't get me wrong, the food was fabulous, but it was one of those times where I may have needed a barf receptacle nearby.

Then it was a dinner with my Warner Bros. friends and roommate at a new place called Luna Park. One thing I've learned about LA is that they take their food seriously. And it just melts in your mouth. And that you get martinis in mini glasses and they're still $9. A good nine bucks, though. Really.

So here I sit, a dedicated blogger, still hungover from last night's festivities, buzzing from a martini or two, turning down a party so I can write something for you folks to read while you're slacking off at work.

Still loving this town...

I've Never Seen So Many...

• Fake boobs
• Bleached blondes
• Fake boobs
• Drug addicts
• Fake boobs
• Whores
• Fake boobs
• Transvestites
• and, you guessed it, fake boobs

And I was just on a little Melrose shopping spree. Go figure.

I don't understand these people. I like myself just the way I am.

Ain't nobody going to knife me. Hello, LA.

Franz Ferdinand | My New Favorite Live Band

Friday night would be considered my first concert at a large venue in Hollywood. It couldn't have been a better first time. And it couldn't have been a more perfect band. And we couldn't have had more perfect seats. Especially for getting them only hours before the show.

Franz Ferdinand at the legendary Greek Theatre in Hollywood. Think Starwood Amphitheatre, but nestled in the side of a mountain in one of Hollywood's many parks. So in reality, it blows Starwood away. And the "grass seats" are actually seat seats, so you don't have to get all muddy and uncomfortable. Surrounded in pine trees and pretty lights, on a chilly night with clear skies, it definitely worked.

After dinner at The Velvet Margarita (way cool hang with velvet Elvis's everywhere), we made it to the show in time to catch the majority of TV on the Radio's set (which was also rockin', even though we missed my song). I discovered yet another tasty brew, Tecate, and proceeded to drink too too many.

Once Franz hit the stage, I had my groove on, my drink on, and my box seats on. They hit every note. They jammed every jam. They sang every song. The stage was surrounded by large screens and by the way it looked, they could have very easily been filming a DVD. It was filmed in black and white, and although I don't know all the fancy production lingo (everyone else in this damn town does), it was very Beatles-y looking. Think A Hard Day's Night, but way more pro. As a matter of fact, they were so freakin' awesome, and with there little silver suits on, you could have thought that just for a second that, well...even though they are from Scotland...you know.

If you ever ever ever get a chance to see them live, do. And if you haven't picked up their new record, You Could Have It So Much Better, do. It's just as good as the first record. Actually, I'll admit, I thought they had a great debut and that would be it. Not the case. They have far exceeded proving me wrong.

Once the show ended, we rolled back down the mountain off to The Well on Sunset and then later The Frolic Room off of Hollywood Boulevard. I actually met a guy there from Goodlettsville. He was wearing a shirt that said Buttman.

I'm thinking the reason that everyone (I do mean everyone) goes out at least five nights a week here is because there's so many freakin' cool bars that you have to keep the rotation going or you'll never hit them all.

I. Love. This. Town.

Heck yes, I do.

Nashville Music, Last Call

Now that I'm feeling recovered from Jill and Herself's Big Adventure, I wanted to call out a few Nashville shows that make me sad that I will miss. All of a sudden it's killer band central. So...as my last recommendations of shows on your side of the Rockies...I highly recommend you check these out:

• 10.16 ~ Green Day (rescheduled) @ The GEC
• 10.17 ~ Cat Power @ Mercy Lounge ~ Doors open at 7:30p
• 10.18 ~ The New Pornographers w/ The Destroyers @ Mercy Lounge ~ 8:30p
• 10.26 ~ The Bravery @ Exit/In ~ 8p
• 10.31 ~ The Shout Out Louds @ Exit/In
• 11.11 ~ LCD Soundsystem @ City Hall
• 11.14 ~ Ted Leo & the Pharmacists @ Exit/In ~ 8p, $12
• 11.14 ~ Bright Eyes w/ Feist @ Ryman Auditorium ~ 7:30p, $25.50

Rock on, my friends. In the meantime, I'll be doing it West Coast style.

Out In The Great Wide Open

I am alive. We're having issues with our wireless router so I haven't been able to get on my laptop (which means no pictures). So right now I'm sitting on the the hardwood floor with a box for a desk using my roommate's computer. (Hey, this would make a good table to eat at!) My movers won't be here for another week. It's rough.

Rough...all I see out our windows are palm trees and the Hollywood hills. A few electrical wires in there, but overall it's my paradise. This is the beginning of day four and I still can't believe I'm here.

And yet another dream come true.

After the big drive, the past week has been quite a blur. Phoenix was great, as usual, and Ciaobella and I did some serious photo shooting at The Pussycat Lounge. No, it's not a strip club. Just a snobby "we all have fake boobs and bleached blonde hair" club in Old Town Scottsdale. We tore it up on the dance floor, nothing new.

Saturday morning I made the short six hour trek to my fab new apartment. It's even better than the pics. Really the whole thing has been very surreal. Saturday night we caught some bands out at Spaceland in Silver Lake (where Beck lives) and Monday night was a birthday party at Jerry's Deli and Bowling out in the valley. I met a million new friends there, one of them with which I spent the entire day with yesterday (my lunch date turned into a thirteen hour adventure).

I had my first take at Lebonese food (love it) at Sunnin's in Westwood. Then it was Santa Monica, Venice, LA interstates 101, hiking, iTuning, walking Hollywood Boulevard and checking out whatever the moment presented us with. I think it went ice cream at Cold Stone, sushi at the Geisha House, beer at Powerhouse (a classic dive bar), and then red wine in the French Brasserie. In this town, you never know where the hell you'll end up. It's the best thing ever.

Here's what I have learned so far. People out here are amazing. The general attitude is completely different than Nashville. But in such a good way. I spent half of last night kicking myself for taking ten years to get my ass out here. But then, everything happens for a reason. And right now, I know I'm in the right place at the right time. After all the learning I've done in Nashville and all the mistakes I've made, this is naturally the place for me to be, surrounding myself only with those who have goodness in their hearts, music in their souls, and creativity in their being.

And sometimes, if you're lucky, you can get your picture taken in a seductive pose, leaning up against Bob Barker's gate. At least, that's what happened to me last night on the walk home.