1. Thursday, March 20, 2003

    dear alabama, 

    to protest the war i drank like crazy last night.

    took my first shower in days, karisa picked me up in her hummer, and we off roaded it west to beverly hills to suck down free booze in the bacardi room of le meridian thanks to the la press club which is hereby my favorite club.

    like several other women that i met last night, karisa isnt crazy about rum. but it was the bacardi room, they had lots of varieties, but it was all rum.

    luckilly i had snuck in a flask of jd and kept her glass filled.

    even though rum is my pleasure, i began by asking the bartender for a recommendation. he took a minute and then poured me a generous shot of vanila rum over ice and then topped off the short glass with ginger ale, finalized it by squeezing in a slice of lime and poking in a glow in the dark straw.


    the slight aftertaste of vanilla splashes at you like a wave of satisfaction.

    but the only way to truly judge a good rum is to drink it straight, especially when its being poured free in a clockwork orange lounge of intellectuals and party crashers, where the theme, strangely, was orange, replete with tall vases filled with circus peanuts, sparkling cavair bowls of orange m&ms, and short but mascaraed carrottop, so the choice became obvious to choose a double of the orange rum.

    which of course tasted like cough medicine.

    ninety nine cent store cough medicine.

    but i drank it all. im a good guest. and i even tipped the bartender each round. we all did.

    karisa and i split up and said hi to all the nice people. some we knew, like mc brown who told us about his loft being featured in the ultra hip magazine dwell, moxie who modeled a pair of the best fitting suede pants ive ever seen on such a skinny girl.

    at this point i must digress. please forgive me.

    single men of los angeles.

    moxie is very very hot. she has a great apartment. she drives a porsche. remember when we discussed the sexiness of black glasses on pretty girls? moxies were square and thick. with her skin being so pale the entire effect is incredibly glamorous. photos cannot capture any of this.

    she was just one of the beautiful and interesting local single women drinking and laughing at this event. and they all dressed so good.

    it’s always troublesome to decide what to wear when attending a club event at a five star hotel in beverly hills famous for being the very one where in nineteen ninety four courtney love was allegedly shooting up in when she heard the news that there was a body of a young man found in her seattle home.

    karisa chose to wear a tight red rock n roll shirt with small lettering made even more difficult due to her long hair. but if you stared long enough, you’d get it.

    she and i play the funnest games.

    after all the drinking she busted with the old favorite look at me look at me.

    she knows how i feel about lip gloss and while she drove us to the formosa she slow mo applied several layers and told me every detail about it.

    it feels sooooo good tony.

    its called cotton candy.

    we were gonna eat with all our friends but suddenly we wanted chinese, immediately.

    spicy mongolian beef, not so spicy kung pow chicken, and pork fried rice with a mischeivous amount of nutmeg! and pineapple cubes.

    we indulged, washed down with an apple martini for her, and a shot of plain olde bacardi for me.

    to bacardi, we toasted in the dark booth of the very back of the formosa while watching one after another of hollywoods elite stand in line for the valet to retrieve their bad ass rides from the night.