You know, my friends Lucy & Ricky are pretty cool. They can show up at a birthday party (or anywhere for that matter), and both run into several ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, hookups, what-have-you, and still not lose their cool – no matter how BIZARRO things seem to get. It is a BEAUTIFUL thing to behold, my friends.
They recently took me to a birthday party of a friend of theirs, Party Girl, (whom I’d met through them, on another occasion, at another party thrown by said Party Girl). We had loads of fun at this little soiree, I swear, but before I dive in let me provide you with the Cast of Characters. I wouldn’t want you to get lost along the way (PLEASE – try and keep up):
Lucy – my girlfriend who has been dating and now lives with her man, Ricky. She is an accomplished actress and business woman – and a very good friend. A few years back, when Lucy and I were both single and living in LA, we tore up this town (L.A.) whenever we had the chance.
Ricky – a new friend, and Lucy’s man – a very cool guy. Also an accomplished actor, writer, etc.
Party Girl – the birthday girl, as well as hostess to more than one party!
Party Man – party girl’s hubby. Also producer of some really popular slasher / horror films.
Tyler Mann – an actor, producer, member of a very well-known family of actors (dad, brothers, etc..) – but I can’t tell you any more. He provided me his own alias.
Funny how these Hollywood types just eat up this alias business. I love them so much – sniff sniff. Was it me or did we really make a real connection on the alias thing? These are people after my own heart. They rock.
Okay – Enough already.
Leopardesse – a good friend of mine. A gorgeous Swedish gal (former model), Hollywood socialite and jet-setter. Named for her signature leopard print on everything that is “her.”
Michele – pronounced Mickelly – it’s an Italian name for a guy. So, yes, Michele is a guy. He is a really cool guy who’s nice looking, and a very well-known singer/song-writer. I’ve always been a fan. Can’t say any more – again. SORRY. But he kindly provided his alias as well.
Malibu – Michele’s best friend, and a therapist to the stars. He lives in a very cool home in the hills above Malibu. Being at his house makes me miss hiking and the outdoors. (I know, it’s a stretch). But if I could, I would run right up those hills. Not sure what I’d do once I got up there, except perhaps jump up and down hysterically, shoot a video to prove I did it and call it a day – but I can imagine it, nonetheless.
Pixie – a nice enough gal who can’t seem to let go of the past – or old boyfriends, apparently. At least not when she ties one on (pun intended).
In order to begin, I have to rewind to a few nights before the party, when I had a chance introduction to Tyler Mann. Leopardesse and I decided it had been far too long since we’d gotten together. The last time was when she visited Aspen last winter. I wrote about it in “Alcohol with Altitude (and Hormones)“. Plus, she’d been traveling in Europe (for over two months) since I’d moved back to LA. We decided to make a night of it. Our first stop: Koi. YUM. I love that place. As we walked in I quickly learned a valuable lesson: I must never EVER go out again without Leopardesse. She knows everyone, and they all love her and swoon over her. She’s forty-eight, and still turns heads. Use your imagination, un-kay? It can happen. It’s GOING to happen to ME when I’m forty-eight. Believe it baby.
Anyway, Jorge (pronounced hor-hey) – one of the owners – bought us some very lovely martinis and positioned us at the seat of our choice on the sushi bar, while the maitre d’ Charles caressed us whenever he walked by. You’d think we were two kittens in the window at the pet shop, the way these men stopped by to stare and pet. ha ha. But I attribute it all to my lovely girlfriend. I just got caught in some of the overflow. 🙂
As we were leaving Koi, Leopardessesaw an old friend of hers having a drink at the bar with Tyler Mann. Tyler and I introduced ourselves and started chatting, while Leopardesse and her friend caught up. He educated me about his family – he was the son of Mr. Mann a very famous sitcom dad from the 70’s and 80’s, and the brother of another couple of famous Brothers Mann. He himself had just made an appearance in the latest craze of horror / slasher flicks – something like “I Love Machetes Seven” (ha ha). He also is producing a musical which he promised to invite me to the premiere (I’ll keep you posted on that one).
While we were getting familiar, I mentioned that my friend Ricky’s ex-wife was now married to his brother Mann (here’s where you must try and keep up). Well, we talked about that and how everyone was in this sort of incestuous relationship in Hollywood – and I asked the question, “You mean it isn’t just that way in Aspen?”
Okay – little break here. Just so you know – when we say “incestuous” – we, meaning, well, me (hey I’m feeling royal) – we don’t mean it in the literal sense, people. It simply means everyone travels in the same small circles and people end up dating some of the same people that their friends have dated. It’s very common in small towns with small populations, but I was a bit surprised to hear it in reference to Hollywood. “These people gotta get outta their circle more often,” I said to him, jokingly.
Anyhoo – he talked about a party his brother’s ex-wife, Party Girl, hosted a few weeks back, and how he’d been there. (“Oh my god! So was I!!” “No! How come I didn’t see you there?” “Well, maybe because we didn’t get there until 1 AM, and there were only six people left stumbling around.”)
He said he planned to see all of the same people in a couple of nights for another party at their house, celebrating Party Girl’s birthday. Again, we had something to talk about. Lucy told me about this upcoming party earlier that day.
“No way! Lucy and Ricky will be there? I love them!” He said excitedly, “You should come then, with me!”
“Sure!” I said.
“What fun would that be, for you to show up again at their house, only this time with me?!” he continued.
I pulled out a card, and in the dimly lit bar we both determined that certainly my card had my cell phone number on it. (I later learned that it didn’t, after, *surprise* he didn’t call me for the party). You know what I really hate? Not that he didn’t call – big deal – but that, my eyes and brain are really aging! I couldn’t see anything on that card (note to self, make cards old-people friendly next time) – nor could I remember if I’d put the cell number on the card! Sad people. Really sad.
The next day I recounted the story to Lucy, and shared my doubts about actually getting a call.
“Well, you can come with us anyway. Party Girl and Party Man love it when pretty girls come to their parties. They won’t mind.”
Yo. I am never one to turn down a fun time. Remember that.
We arrived at the party at about 9:30 or 10pm (I know. Early for us!), and all manner of shenanigans was already afoot.
We entered the lovely home in Mulholland Estates, and immediately Ricky ran into his ex-wife, whom he hadn’t seen in several years. ‘It’s starts’ I thought to myself, ‘Let the games begin.’ Lucy took it upon herself to have a lengthy, friendly conversation with her. They were new B-F-F’s. Then, Pixiewalked in at about the same time. Ricky dated her some twenty years ago, and the last time we’d been in this house Pixie was falling down drunk, telling Ricky how he’d been the best boyfriend ever and she’d been so in love with him. How she’d been so stupid to lose him. She sooo wanted him, and hung all over him. It was pretty funny – in a twisted, Mulholland Drive sort of way. Pixie wasn’t drunk yet on this night, and was actually very nice and normal at this point. We all walked into the party together, chatting with people we saw and knew along the way. All of us, that is, except Lucy, whom we’d lost to Ricky’s ex-wife.
You know – I’ve been to some pretty cool parties in Hollywood. I’ve seen oxygen bars and henna tattoo stations – and astrologers and psychics on hand to do readings. I’ve seen Cirque du Soleil sorts of performers, acrobats doing tricks and fire breathers. People in Hollywood know how to throw a good party. That or they like to entertain themselves as much as they love entertaining the world.
This party, though not quite the extravaganza of some that I’ve seen, was no exception. They had an incredible sushi bar, and homemade (“Zee flow-werrr was flewn een from Pah-ree”) crepe station set up. In the billiard room sat Tarot card readers, and there was a DJ spinning his latest and greatest outside.
Amid all this sensory stimulus, I became keenly aware of a little rumbly in my tumbly. Hey – I am a mommy, don’t forget, so even Pooh Bear makes the blog. Deal with it. It was a beautiful night, and as Lucy worked the party, Ricky and I hit the food. That’s what I’m TALKING about: When attempting to play with the big boys, it’s ultra important to stay fueled up. One problem existed for me, however: There was not a single vegetable or salad in sight. I was forced to indulge in the fare supplied by our hosts. I had two spicy tuna rolls and a bite of Ricky’s crepe, and I was ready to fumble – I mean rumble.
The big fun of the evening for me was the fact that famous singer songwriter Michele (again – not his real name, people – sorry, but he is GOOD. AND FAMOUS – okay? Trust me on this one) was there, with our friend Malibu. I loved watching everyone pander after Michele. I don’t really get that, myself, but it’s interesting to watch, I have to say.
That, and my tarot card readings. How the heck do those people do that? He was spot on, with little or no info from me. Fun fun, boys and girls!
I also saw someone who frequents my “Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf” daily coffee stop. I’d never formally met him, but we sit together occasionally and chat along with all the other regulars in the mornings. Now we had a place out of context to converse, and it was loads of fun. I learned that he works for Party Man as a talent manager, but I digress.
As time wore on, and I did what I do best at these sorts of functions (flutter), everyone began to get a little tipsy – to say the least – except me, of course. I had two glasses of wine the entire evening. I knew I needed to stay alert so I could take notes and live to tell you people about it.
I fluttered over to Mr. Tyler Mann who asked me to marry him, after multiple apologies for standing me up, and pulling out the very card I gave him two nights prior, to prove he had it and had tried to call a cell phone that was non-existent on the card. He even got his brother Mann (the one now married to Ricky’s ex-wife) in on it, who whole-heartedly approved of our engagement. I told them both I’d marry him, but that my new fiance was going to have to work for it. They weren’t sure at first what to make of that, but after a split second, he agreed, and the deal was done. So, I guess I’m engaged now. Talk about brokering the deals in Hollywood!
Then I fluttered over to Michele and Malibu and chit-chatted with them. As we were talking I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Pixie seemed to be up to no good again. She was invading Ricky’s personal space, with her inflated lips just about touching his nose as she spoke, and putting her hands all over him. He was taking her hands off his arms, and trying to get her to back off. Then it happened – and I am sure Ricky was at least a little grateful. Pixie noticed Michele talking to our little group, and with a slurpy grin, maneuvered over to “talk” to him.
Here is where Michele, the famous person of the night, and I bonded. As Pixie slurred her wonderful world of woman-ness into Michele’s ear, he remained stiff, and though we’d been mid-sentence on another topic, he said under his breath to me “I really need to extricate myself from this situation to my right.” As he tried to move to his left.
Listen. NO ONE has to tell me twice to rescue them, if they need it. Hello?!! Have you read my story about the Mummy Terrorist? If not, you may want to stop now and read it before going any further. You really need to get a clear picture of the great lengths to which I will go to save the world.
Here’s how I did it this time. I quickly and innocently failed to notice that Pixie was trying to get closer to Michele, and I simply stepped between them, and placing my arm on his back, guided him three steps to the left – away from the vixen.
“Thank you,” he said nicely. “No problem!” I said, matter of factly. And we continued our conversation.
About that time, my friends and I noticed it was almost 2:30 am, and time to leave. Ricky and I began the slow and arduous process of extricating Lucy from the scene, and making our grand exit. I said farewell to my fiance, and all of my new friends, and we headed home.
When my head hit the pillow at 3 AM, I immediately fell into a deep and sweet slumber. Life is good.
Remember that people. Even in the twisted world of Hollywood and Mulholland Drive, one can see the beauty of life, and enjoy it. Believe it. It’s true.
Time for me to hit the road now! I am sitting in LAX dispatching this to you, and about to board an airplane. I’m off to Aspen for a week. But stay tuned! Next Sunday I’m suppose to attend the Emmy Awards with my good friend Musicality. He said he thinks we even get to walk the red carpet. That is, if all goes according to plan!
Have a great week my lovelies – and puhhh-leease – enjoy every moment.
Love you people! Mmmmmmmmphhhuuhhhhh!
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