March 7th: embark on road trip to ELAY! Nineteen years of celebrity obsession, media stalking, and peers telling me West Hollywood is calling my name, I am at long last driving to Southern California to hush the cries of the city of angels.
We drive Whittney’s turtle green Honda down Rte 5, passing a stinky Harris Ranch which we remedy with magazine perfume samples pressed to our nostrils, between fistfuls of Trader Joes animal crackers and Parmesan Crisps. :d YUM.
I’m loving the long bathroom lines at the rest stops, for I luck out with my spot in line and get the handicap stall. WIN. Also reminds me: PUBLIC RESTROOMS NEED A BETTER TOILET PAPER DISPENSING SYSTEM. One must complete acrobatics in order to obtain an adequate amount of paper. Hey Kimberly-Clark, get better engineers. Thanks, the public.
We will be staying with Grandma Lou in Manhattan Beach, but don’t want to bombard her immediately so we hit up our BU/Beverly-Hills residing friend Saman. Saman offers to make us dinner, and though hesitant, we are poor college kids and jump at the free meal, despite the rando guy chef.
As we pull up to Saman’s Persian Palace on the corner of Sunset Blvd, we are greeted by his adorable dog, which only speaks Farsi. Do not ask me what species I am, for I knoweth not. Jacques, another BU friend of ours from LA, pours us glasses of wine while Saman is busy preparing a simple, average meal of tilapia, penne a la vodka, steamed vegetables, bruschetta, and white asparagus. WHERE ARE WE?! It is delicious, epic, and we enjoy the meal with Saman’s grandfather, little sister, High School friend from USC, and Jacques’ Israeli cousin Daniel. LA is faboosh, when I say “Khloe” STRAIGHT men know whom I’m talking about. Surreal life.
To help with digestion, Jacques and Saman insist on cruising around LA with us, so we hop into their Mercedes and cruise down Sunset on Oscar night. NBD. We only see THE Vanity Fair party and Whittney spots Chris Noth, and our car gets asked if we’re looking for VF Party parking. Unfortunately I left my gown in the turtle…
We stop in a café for coffee and dessert, lapping the luxury of the most spontaneous spring break we’ve ever had, and head home to Manhattan Beach.
We are greeted at 2am by Grandma Lou, who is noticeably and openly disturbed by how tall her granddaughter’s friends are. “Well in my mind… in my mind I am six foot two. AND MY BOSOM! WOW.” This desire for greater height and breast size is a recurring theme in Grandma Lou’s speeches. Louise is unreal, and is the missing piece in understanding Sarah. All is now clear.