I've Never Felt So LA...

...And I don't think that's a good thing.

I had the privilege of going to a Hollywood Hills house tonight for a cookout. With a real chef as host! And while that was all good and fine and fun and everything, I couldn't help noticing that those tales you hear about LA were actually true!

Okay let me back up. We drove for what seemed to be fifty miles on the curviest, skinniest, and bumpiest roads known to man. I think we got to the top of the hill and actually started going down the other side. Well, we passed huge mansions and gated driveways at every confusing corner. After finally finding the place, I settled my modest Toyota between a Mercedes and a BMW. I was sure to set my emergency brake.

After finding our way through a jungle, (or a stair path leading to the house through tons and tons of nature), we got to the backyard where my breath was stolen by the view. It was a perfect view into the city, or the valley I think, but beautiful nonetheless. There were only a few other people there, so my nervousness level hiked up a few notches, as I was a plus one.

We were warmly welcomed and immediately given wine, so who was I to complain? Everyone was pretty, but in that good hair, expensive clothes, personal trainer kind of way. All the guys had their button-up shirts, buttoned down about one-quarter of the way to expose some nice, tan chest, complete with the LA man's perfectly trimmed chest hair peaking out.

Over dinner, there were so many jokes about how much everyone was eating, even though barely anyone got seconds. There were quite a few anorexia jokes made and even one or two bulimia ones. (I actually held my bladder for a good thrity minutes after eating as to not raise suspicions.)

There was one guy talking about how he hadn't shaved himself in ten years. The whole group spoke about all the "hotspots" they go to, and how they just reserve a table at clubs when they know it's going to be crowded. (Loosely translated: Every weekend, spending $5000 so you can have a seat at a club where you are going to spend another $5000 just buying drinks.) At one point the conversation shifted to speaking of levels of "AmEx" and if the black card was worth the membership fee. I've never felt poorer in my entire life.

When asked where we lived, my roommate said "Beverly Hills", and I chimed in with "adjacent". Whoops. I totally blew her cover.

The highlight of the evening was when one of the more boisterous LAers dispproved of someones outfit. "No, no! You can't wear that to _____! What if TMZ sees you? Get some leather, some leather! He needs some leather!"

But everyone was really nice, I just couldn't believe just how many stereotypes I had seen tonight. I left deciding that the Hollywood Hills area was not my scene. (Lots of little phrases tonight like, "You can't do that in the Hills!" "You're in the Hills, you better act like it.") Take me to Los Feliz!!