Monday, November 10, 2008

This Is How We Roll VIP Stylez



Rikki & I were exhausted after a weekend full of friends, fun times, and a funny man named Mraz, yet we got up fairly early and hit a local WeHo (that'd be West Hollywood for you non-LA types) hot spot called The Griddle Cafe (you may remember I mentioned in an earlier post that I had recently been reading about it in Kevin Smith's diary "My Boring Ass Life" - not going to lie, I was hoping to run into him and tell him the segment from An Evening with Kevin Smith wherein he regales the audience with the story about his wife cut his peen open with her gyrating changed my life - in a bad way - forever).

I'm not exagerating when I say that the portions at The Griddle are ridiculously big. Like, I-can-only-eat-1/4-of-the-plate big.



My peanut butter crunch french toast........ swooon!


After we've eaten our body weight in batter and bread, we head off to the WB Studios on the other side of the hill just off Olive. It's here that we find out that VIP essentially doesn't mean anything except that you get sat directly behind the camera and never get seen on air (I blame my haircut).

The show itself was.......... interesting. Mostly because OF COURSE the day I go is the big Ellen Election Special where she chatted about issues that I have absolutely no say in. I gamely tried to look as American as possible (it involved not mentioning poutine and pronouning sorry "sawry") and be on my best behaviour (the audience was given a stern lecture that we were not to touch Ellen at any point when she danced around us).

The highlights of the show for me, in no particular order, were:

-Bill Maher calling Sarah Palin a bimbo. I'm not sure if that made it to air (doubtful), but it was hilarious and kinda true?
-Anderson Cooper & The Case of the Bad Satellite Link In: they had to film his section twice because the first time the audio kept cutting out and we couldn't understand him. It was the only time that Ellen was really "off book" and not going off a teleprompter for her jokes (I was surprised, actually, how scripted the show was) - and she was actually pretty funny with her ad libs.
-the apres-Halloween segment where she went through clips of her staff trying to scare her and her trying to scare unsuspecting audience members by waiting for them in a bathroom stall. Note to readers: if it involves anyone falling, anyone being scared, or cats doing anything cat-y, I will love it (I thusly assume Ellen must read my blog so she knew what to show to make me laugh. Obvi.).

All in all, it was a pretty cool taping to be a part of, but it felt kind of lifeless on the whole. It was like a little machine plugging away and it didn't seem spontaneous or fresh. I have a feeling it once was, but since she got insanely popular she's had to cater to the suits and "deliver a product" (that's LA speak for shut up and bring in the big bucks, biatch). I did appreciate that she came out after the show to thank the audience for coming in and for any travel anyone did (cough TORONTO cough).

Tired after dancing and staaarving despite the biggest breakfast known to man, Rikki and I decided to hit the town and look for some Mexican grub. After poo-pooing a place called Greg's Tacos (uh, no thanks, Greg...) we settled on Pink Taco, which we had passed the day earlier on the way to the beach in Santa Monica.

I'm not going to lie, I had serious doubts about the quality of the Mexican food at a place named after The Vaj (uh, sorry - named after an actual type of taco??! yeah....) at a restaurant that is owned by someone who has been all up in Lindsay Lohan.

But...

It was actually fucking delish. I have dreams about the carne asado mini taco I had, they were that good! And I tried Mexican coke for the first time and I have to say it's much MUCH more delicious than regular coke, and it is "healthier" for you, too (I use the term loosely, obvi). So if you are in Century City at all in the near future RUN don't walk to Pink Taco. Oh, and if you can buy me one of the Pink Taco hats while you're there too that'd be great..........

That night we headed out to catch Kyle Riabko's set at The Mint.


After hearing such good things about him from my music friends for so long, I was excited to check him out. I thought he sounded great in Spring Awakening so I knew regardless I was in for a treat. And even with these high expectations, I have to say that he blew me away! He plays guitar like a fucking champ! He is far and above one of the best guitar players I have ever seen play, and he can sing and act to boot (not to mention he's fucking adorable!).

After the show Rikki & I decided to grab a drink while Kyle was chatting with some fans who came out. Rikki challenged the bartender to surprise her with a bevarage and so, feeling adventerous, I jumped on that train as well.



... And then I got sorta drunk? Which made me just stupid enough to have the following conversation with Kyle when he finally came over to Rikki & I:

Kyle: Heyyyy, Rikki!
Rikki: Hey---
Me (interrupting): You're a very good humper! (Touches his arm casually.)
Kyle (awkward): Yeah.
Me (realizing I'm a total fucking idiot): I was, uh, just joking! (Touches his arm again, awkwardly)
Kyle (to Rikki): I thought you lived in Chicago?
Melissa (dies).

Ha. I really should get a shirt made that says "I say inappropriate things. Feel free to ignore me", just so people know what I'm all about before I can open my mouth.

I didn't feel too badly about myself afterwards, though, because I rememebered Rikki's "awesome" (I use that word loosely) parking job outside The Mint earlier:


Italic
There was literally less than an inch between my beloved rental car and the van we parked in front of. While Rikki congratulated herself on a parking job well done, I said a few Hail Marys and thanked my lucky stars that we didn't hit the car.

And with that, Rikki's portion of my Big California Adventure was just about over. We were up at the ungodly hour of 4am the next day to get Rikki to the airport in time for her to get home to Chicago and vote.

Up next? What does a lonely Canadian do when her friend leaves and she has to fend for herself in LA?

(Hint: it involves her 7th viewing of Wicked and trying not to get mugged at Hollywood and Highland.)

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