Work Hard, Play Hard

In the past week, I broke my rule of not working past 8pm every night. And to make up for the extra work and stress, I went out and socialized even more than usual, running the gamut from a rock concert to the ballet, to loud bars and an art show. I am exhausted.

Monday: Since Wavy is soon leaving SoCal, we decided she had to eat at Mulberry Street Pizza, hands down the best New York style pizza out here. When given the choice between Pinkberry and the Gelato shop for dessert, we stood in the middle of the street debating. I caved in to the more fattening gelato.

Tuesday: I was all dressed in my running gear, ready to meet up with Jigaho at the track, when Polar Opposite friend called. "It's raining. Let's just all have dinner instead." So instead of exercising, we headed to Tofu-Ya where I scarfed down a hearty meal of Soon Tofu and Bulgogi, washing it down with a Pinkberry frozen yogurt. I was the only one to eat EVERYTHING. I am like a goldfish that doesn't know how to stop eating what's in front of me.

Wednesday: Hit the Troubadour with Sly and another friend to see The Bravery. I only knew this song below and their latest single "Time Won't Let Me Go" but heard they were great live.


The lead singer is a little funny looking but his voice is a cross between Robert Smith of The Cure and a little bit of Morissey. I hung back at the bar where I could sit down and be the old lady that I am but I still enjoyed the energy of the band and its rabid fans packed together up front.

Thursday: I had friends in town this weekend, one of whom was the couple from Vegas. Since I was traditionally the "stunt double" who took the wife out to the ballet, we carried on the tradition and left the boys to fend for themselves (I think they went to watch turtle races at some local bar. Go figure.) Luckily the Joffrey Ballet was in town this same weekend and we caught Program A, the more classical of the two programs with music from actual Russian composers like Stravinsky. None of that modern dance stuff with people plopping around barefoot.

Friday: Another friend in town. This town, I met up with the college crew in Little Tokyo where we ate at a place that left us as hungry as we started. Izakaya Haru Ulala is a traditional Japanese tapas place, serving different food in tiny little dishes. Unfortunately, each dish took about 10 minutes to come out at a time.

We cut our losses about an hour later, making our way to Broadway Bar to meet up with more friends. (On a completely unrelated note, they were holding "So You Think You Can Dance" auditions next door at the Orpheum theater and I really really wanted to sneak in and watch instead of hanging out at a bar.) After straining my voice for about half an hour trying to talk over the loud music, we hopped to the next bar. Golden Gopher was more crowded and since some of us were still starving, drinking wasn't a great idea either. At least there were more interesting people to look at.

Sometimes, especially on weekends like this, I feel like I've lost any last bits of socializing skills I ever had. I never know what to do with bars. I rarely drink at bars because I know I'll have to drive myself somewhere else. I have a hard time talking loudly over the usual decibel level. I hate small talk. And, well, if you just sit there not drinking and not talking at a bar, really what's the point?

Anyway, we ended the night at a King Taco in downtown, a place I've managed to never notice or hear of the whole time I've lived in LA, probably because I've never liked Mexican food. Fortunately, this place was authentic and delicious. They had good meat and horchatas! Success.

Saturday: I promised the whole day to the Vegas couple. So I had brunch with them and another couple friend, followed them around for some shopping, had dinner at Typhoon (an Asian-fusion place that actually serves insects as part of their menu.) and attended his Art Show opening with an assortment of coworkers and former coworkers. Yay.

We went across the street to a bar called Good Hurt, where the bartenders dress like naughty nurses and a couple of very loud and not so good bands played on stage. Seeing that I had just endured loud bars the night before, I stuck in some ear plugs and sat down for awhile. (Yes I bring ear plugs with me everywhere in case I go to impromptu concerts.) As an added bonus a trio of bad burlesque dancers came on stage to do two numbers. After that, I was ready to go.

When another awful band started warming up, I stood up and said "I'M LEAVING." Surprisingly enough, the whole group followed me out. But as they loitered around outside of the bar chatting and saying their goodbyes, the cranky old lady in me snapped and in my head I thought "Ok, I'm done here" and I walked off. Just like that. The exhaustion, the cold, and the smoke swirling around me finally did me in. The week was done. And I was in bed soon after midnight.