Stupid Ass Party
I just got back from playing a fancy Hollywood star-studded party at the latest trendy Hollywood club.
Everyone was too good looking--I'm not sure if it was in an intimidating way, or in a sort of creepy way. All the girls, fixing their makeup in the powder room, were thin, blond and long-legged. I felt like a midget--I should start wearing high heels again. All the guys had great hair and really expensive looking eyeglass frames. It made me almost understand those bitter right-wing folk who love to deride the Hollywood elite.
Sure they will save a poor orphaned puppy, but would they help, or take in, a piss-smelling bum? Or a struggling musician?
Maybe it's just my bad mood. You see, I was asked to play a millionaire's party for free (which is okay, I do that a lot for friends and charity) but then when I got there, I was treated like...the help. Which I don't mind, being the help, if I get paid at least something...a token...some swag?
So there I was in the back room, away from the fun, waiting for my turn to play for the very chatty crowd. They talked through the entire fifteen-minute set of the band that came on before me. The band, consisting of 4 cute boys, was not as miserable and upset as one would have thought. They were smart and got baked before the show.
But for me, it made me want to leave Los Angeles for some Red State utopia where everyone knows their neighbors and they have block parties. Maybe there I would sing my songs (or learn a Faith Hill cover) and people would...listen.
As it turned out, I didn't end up singing at all. By the time I was supposed to go on, everyone was ready to leave. The party host apologized and agreed that it was not the right atmosphere for music (other than the bad Euro-house that was blaring all through dinner).
So, I walked outside and waited in a long line for the valet. It cost me $10, plus tip. But I did see Meg Ryan.
Do you think they really have block parties?
