California knows how to partay

Hello folks! This blog has been quiet too long. Look, I know that we're all buried in insane amounts of work that make undergrad look like a vacation in the Bahamas, but it's the month of February for goodness sakes! And you know what that means...FEB CLUB!! Hopefully you all are managing to find your way to these shindigs through Day after Tomorrow-like blizzards and such. Somehow I managed to haul my work-beleaguered butt up to LA (while I had no epic snowstorms to contend with, I did have SoCal drivers, a scary enough prospect in itself) to partay like old times with Monica and Co. And PARTAY we did.

First, a note to those attending Feb Clubs: MAKE SURE PEOPLE DON'T SET THE MORY'S CUPS DOWN ON THE TABLE!! Some alumni (or party-crashers) may in fact not be aware of the most sacred rules and traditions of our alma mater. A few of us more recent graduates had to run guard duty to ensure that this travesty was not repeated.

Anyways...this is how it went down. The event was at a chic Beverly Hills hotel where they apparently thought that educated people such as Yale alumni would be able to have a civilized party without breaking glasses or nearly setting themselves on fire by leaning on lit candles. This was, of course, a slight miscalculation. In other words, it was basically like a Yale party, with a slightly older (and in some cases even sketchier) demographic. You might think that the best part of the night would have been

A) The middle-aged man who leans over us on the couch to remind the gentleman in back of us that, in case he didn't notice, his shirt was almost directly in contact with a lit candle, then mutters at us under his breath "I just saved that motherf***ers life"

B) "Dr. Suzy", the 55-year old Yale alumna wearing a witches' hat who has apparently obtained a Ph.D. in the Erotic Arts and Sciences, and was demonstrating her expertise by indiscreetly groping and being groped by a different guy every time I looked in her direction (including at least one member of the class of '09).

But neither of these was the highlight...for after we left this event, we wound up at a house party in Hollywood. Or rather, we entered through a tiny hobbit-sized gate between ten-foot-tall hedges, and found a little paradise therein where the inhabitants were bathed in a haze of medicinally-useful hemp-leaf aromas and '80s and '90s music. As one of our company remarked, it was just like the Shire, if the hobbits had been smoking weed and dancing freaky...so basically, exactly like the Shire. And all I could think about was the fact that we were in the same neighborhood where the most glamorous celebrations in American pop culture are held--yet maybe these people (whoever they were) are the real Hollywood elite. After all, it was so exclusive the papparazzi couldn't even find the place...

This photo pretty well captures the ambiance of this elite gathering:



and this is of the assembled LA posse:



So it was a good time, all in all, and Monica was a most gracious host. The whole experience may have even been worth being royally screwed by my two midterms today--one given by my crazy math professor who says that we are all "children in need of a spanking". Well, we got spanked today. But that's all for me. Hope to see some posts about your Feb Club experiences as well!


PS--In response to certain inquiries, NO, I do not have a hot surfer girlfriend. Yet. I've had little time in the past few months to entertain anything hot, surfer, or girl in nature. Frankly, I'd settle for one of the three, although I guess with slight preference for the "girl" part. If I do in fact have a hot surfer girlfriend by the time I see y'all next, I owe you all a case's worth of San Diego's finest local brews (little known fact: SD has one of the largest microbrewery industries in the country!).