A great weekend

I just had the best weekend so far this year. What did I do, you ask? I went to Silverlake, where my friend just bought her first real house. Silverlake is close to Hollywood, and it used to be quirky and artsy and full of rentals, but it's now becoming quite the hip place to be. Her house is a bungalow from the 1930's, lots of charm and built-ins and LOTS of pink tile in the bathroom.

Cynthia has been a friend of mine for a long time. I've known her since she was in Kindergarten and I was in first grade in elementary school. She's calm and quiet, and funny as hell, and I always have fun with her. Even better now, because now she's closer (she lived in San Francisco for several years) and because she has a house, I can bring the wonderdog.

Anyway, the first thing we did was go to a fabulous, dog-friendly, bakery/cafe for lunch, which was just a couple blocks from her house. Then to check out a new wine shop around the corner, and taste some lovely Sauvignon Blanc, then shopping at our favorite store, Marshall's.

The fun began Saturday night. Well, breaking my toe (see lovely picture below) before we went out wasn't so fun, but the rest of it.



(Don't I have the stubbiest, chubbiest toes you've ever seen? Ew.) See the third toe in? Yep, the purple-y one? Broke it when I tried to walk through instead of around, the foot of Cynthia's couch. God it hurt.

But, I didn't let it slow me down, she played some fun music, and we got ready.

We didn't even leave the house until nine. That's crazy talk for me nowadays. I'm usually in my jammies by then, on my second glass of wine.

No, we were two fun-loving gals out on the town.

We went to El Conquistador, which is rumored to have the best margaritas around. Because it was Cinco De Mayo, it was VERY crowded, so we climbed up the stairs to the pantry-sized bar to wait for a table for dinner.

Lots of men up there. Lots of gay men. Silverlake is a very gay-friendly neighborhood, which even I knew, but Cynthia didn't before she moved there. Not as easy to get a date if you're a single, hetero woman. I digress.

Immediately, three of the aforementioned gay men took us under their wing; Bobby, Matt, and some quiet guy who just kept drinking and winking at me once in a while. We weren't there 5 minutes before they bought us a drink.

People, do you know how long it's been since a man I've never met before bought me a drink? Me neither. Bobby fell in love with Cynthia, and I offended Matt somehow (really, I don't know what I said. We were talking, and then he made a face at me, then he turned around and kept his back to me from then on), and drinking/winking guy just smiled. Just when Bobby started hugging on my friend, and kissing her on the cheek, our name was called.

Dinner was wonderful. Torn, you must go to this restaurant when you are in California this summer. You will LOVE this food.

Then, back upstairs for another drink. And yet again, two gay guys took to us right away. John started talking to me, and Lawrence (actually pronounced "Lu-raan" because he was French, but I don't know quite how to spell it) began chatting Cynthia up in the line to the loo. Turned out they were exes that still hung out together. Actually, they weren't gay, because they both also liked women. John was saying how he had a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and how they'd be upset that he was out with Lawrence.

Now folks... I'm not telling this story well at all. I know, you had to be there. I'm not even being witty.

But, as we sat there, we watched John eye this really drunk (and yes, I'll say it, skanky-looking) woman at the end of the bar. Next thing you know, he's gotten up, walked over to her, and started madly making out with her.

Lawrence then starts telling me how great my boobs are. Well, after he says, "you must be at least 40."

Wha'?

I guess that's flirting for him, but both Cynthia and I tried to educate him that saying that was probably never a good idea.

Oh how we laughed.

We closed the place down.

And not even a hangover the next day.

I really need to get out more.