- ONE WOMAN ON A MISSION TO DISCOVER & EXPERIENCE ALL THINGS LOS ANGELES
Filed In: Who: “Only in LA” Stories
1. Name: Dominique Joelle
2. Occupation: Freelance writer/Grad Student
3. Location/Neighborhood: Recently relocated from Minneapolis, MN to Hollywood, CA. And yes, I am aware moving to Hollywood was so transplant of me. I’m finding that out on my own each day.
4. Favorite LA Neighborhood Spot: Any available free parking space. Should I have said Harvard and Stone? I apologize I just moved back here like three months ago and still have no idea what will make me sound cool and experienced. SoHo House? Del Taco?
As a new girl in town, I have to say that nearly 99 percent of the things I’ve witnessed living in LA, thus far, have been worthy of the #onlyinla title. In fact, before I became an eager follower, the epic Love and Loathing Instagram took a liking to one of my OILA observations – a DJ casually spinning vintage vinyl to supplement the already elitist shopping experience that is Whole Foods. As if $16.00 pre-mixed vegan, organic, locally-sourced, kale salad with a maca root infused dressing wasn’t pretentious enough, let’s get Pavlov’d by the crackling croons of James Brown, into buying a $10 reverse-osmosis filtered water as well. In the great state of Minnesota, my hometown, one simply makes peace with the fact that grocery shopping goes hand in hand with the soft tones of early 2000s adult-contemporary gently melting out of the freezer aisle loudspeaker. But back to the point, perhaps the most terrifying of all things LA, aside from Whole Foods, or being required to valet your car at Chipotle on Vine, or discovering the existence of Sprinkles Cupcakes during your menstrual cycle; is dating.
It was 2008, and I was but a temporary transplant, interning at M.G.M Studios for the summer. While dining at a sushi restaurant in the depths of The Valley, I was approached for a date by a tall, dark, and trust-fund. Upon my arrival, I was warned by my LA-born peers that this breed of man, however attractive, may be too aggressive for my tender Midwestern tastes. I did not care. I became entranced by the gleam of the rhinestones on his Affliction tee-shirt, and before I knew it, I had said yes. Baby’s first date in LA!
Days after our meeting I found us on the patio of his favorite ‘I-Know The-Bouncer’ bar in Beverly Hills. We clinked lychee martinis under the glow of Maserati headlights, and spoke of nothing ever, the entire time. After an eternity of staring lifelessly at my reflection in the grease of his pomade-tipped coif, I asked him to walk me back to my Rent-A-Wreck. In a final attempt to recover from a denied invitation back to ‘his place’ in Bel-Air (that I would later find out was his parents backyard pool house), Shahs of Sunset handed me a stick of gum, paired with a pick-up line so epic, it could have only sprouted from the lips of Rico Suave himself; “Call me when the flavor runs out.” Much to his chagrin, I didn’t even so much as Blackberry Ping dat ass. To which, only hours later, I was met with a slew of texts, deeming me a worthless ho-bag, only after a free meal. Karma for spitting out the gum early, I suppose.
Follow Dominique on her own adventures in blogging: http://dominiquexjoelle.tumblr.com/
And don’t forget! If you have your own “Only In LA” story to share, send it to me! More Info HERE
1. Name: Wendy
2. Occupation: Student
3. Location/Neighborhood: Covina
4. Favorite LA Neighborhood Spot: The Wiltern
Milling around the Grove with a friend back in sophomore year of college, and who do we spot? Jesus. Some dude dressed as Jesus is just hanging out doing his Jesus thing, and nobody bats and eye. This could only happen in LA.
See people? Hollywood Jesus is just like us!
He dines at some of LA’s finest eateries!
He takes mandatory Instagram portraits in front of graffiti walls!
Heck. From time to time he even enjoys a bounce on a trampoline.
Hollywood Jesus we love you, keep doing you. Follow him on Instagram @kevinleelight for more Jesus-y entertainment
It has never been so fun, and so easy to put your word out there. At Love & Loathing LA we’re ALWAYS looking for people to share their stories and contribute posts about their “Only In LA” experiences.
HERE’S HOW YOU CAN BE A CONTRIBUTOR:
1. Think of your craziest, funniest, most random, most terrifying, most exciting, etc, moment you’ve had in the City of Angels… one ONLY this city could give you – we ALL have at least one story. Think “only in LA would this happen.”: “that one time I partied with ___”, “that one time I ended up on a reality tv show”, “that one time I went to ____ exclusive event and ____ happened”… you get the idea.
2. Write that story down, on your computer. It can be short, it can be long, whatever. It does not have to be a college, grammar, English paper of doom – write it like you’re telling a friend!
3. Send that story in an email to email@example.com along with your answers to these questions:
4. Favorite LA Neighborhood Spot:
4. Get featured. Get praised. Boom.
IT’S AS EASY and FUN AS THAT. There may even be a treat in it for you. Send your story to find out! For more inspiration check out Heather’s story, Lindsay’s story, and Corey’s story then get to writing!
Occupation: Marketing Manager
Location: Newport Beach, CA
Favorite LA Spot: Mom’s Bar
Most Memorable LA Moment: It was Halloween and I had just gotten off work at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I was in a pretty good mood because Emma Stone came in for lunch with her boyfriend and while she was waiting for her car, she was telling me about the origins of the turkey burger. That was cool.
I was meeting up with friends at this party so we could go to this “halloween parade” in Hollywood. We were going as characters of Aladdin, and I was Abu, the monkey. I didn’t have an official costume so I threw some stuff together last minute- half of a red solo cup as a hat, an old shirt that some fashion designer at the party cut into a tiny vest, and some stockings stuffed with paper towels as a tail. I was pretty convincing.
Anyway, while at the party I was only wearing the vest with no shirt, because Abu doesn’t wear a shirt under his vest does he? I had to be super authentic in the pictures. I was going to put on a long sleeve shirt when we went out later, but one drink led to another, and I left the party only wearing my tiny little vest. Whatever. No big deal. It’s California and it wasn’t very cold.
So a big group of us walked down to Hollywood, and I come to find out that it’s a gay parade. That’s cool, I don’t have a problem with that. However, within 10 minutes of arriving, I get completely separated from my group with nothing but a tiny vest on, and a dead cell phone. I knew the name of the bar they were going to (turns out I didn’t), so I began walking aimlessly alone through this gay parade looking for the bar. I was walking around for a good 45 minutes asking around if anyone knew where this bar was, only to find out I had the name COMPLETELY wrong. Also, whenever I would ask a guy where the bar was, the guy would think I was hitting on him, and ask for my number. I also began to lose track of how many times my ass was grabbed. I’d say about 40 times.
It was at this point I decided to walk back in the direction of my buddy’s house. Little did I know it was about a 4 mile walk and took me a couple hours because I actually had no idea where it was and may or may not have taken a huge detour. Eventually I made it, rang the wrong door bell and woke his crazy neighbor, and fell asleep on his doorstep because no one was home. My buddy came back a little early, and we decided to change out of our Aladdin costumes and go grab a beer down the road. It was an interesting night to say the least. Happy Halloween, LA.
Introducing… The Cutest Damn Music Video Made In LA By The Cutest Damn Duo From LA. | Beginners “Who Knows”
Occupation: VFX Artist
Favorite Local Spot: The Grove
Most Memorable LA Moment:
Last week, around 4 pm a friend texted me asking if I wanted his tickets to The Hobbit premiere as he couldn’t go. So at 4 pm, I went to my boss, asked permission to leave, ran home and threw on a dress and rushed to Hollywood. Turned out my friend had red carpet passes, screening tickets and after party tickets! Definitely the most random, spur of the moment awesome experience. And one that would only happen in Los Angeles!
Just waitin’ for the bus like any other Angeleno… Even turkeys got jobs, kids, and bills to pay.
Oh people of Los Angeles… you’re so gad damn clever.
Beware the Release Form Part Deux
Occupation: administrative associate
Location/Neighborhood: Santa Monica
Favorite Spot in LA: Hinano
Most Memorable Moment/Experience in LA:
As someone who is far from being in the “LA Scene” I sure have gotten myself caught in a few situations that make me look like I am trying to be the next Paris Hilton.
I have driven a Ferrari 100 miles down Santa Monica Blvd, had drinks with a few celebrities over the years, have been hollered at while walking down rodeo drive in Fendi pumps, and often find myself dancing on the stage at clubs. But my most memorable experience in LA has definitely been accidently getting myself trapped in an E! Reality show party with what felt like dozens of cameras following me around.
It all started with many, many drinks at the Bungalow and somehow ending up at a very elite table where it appeared like no one was having fun until my friends and I got there. I really do find it funny how people can spend thousands of dollars at a bar or club to look miserable on a luxurious couch. At that point you might as well buy a hooker and call it a night. Anyways… there was only 1 person who looked under the age of 30 so we decided to chat it up and at least try to get to know him. He pretty much had the personality of a wall, but he did describe some lavish parties he’d heard about and discussed the possibility of meeting up with some cool people, so my friend Lo and I decided to exchange numbers and told him to text us if there was anything exciting going on.
Occupation: box office beezy, part-time shaper of young minds (tutor)
Location: San Diego
Favorite Spot in LA: The Bungalow, Santa Monica
Most Memorable LA Moment: I always assumed that when I die, my 15 minutes of fame would be the time I Irish danced on stage with a gassy sea lion for a St. Patrick’s Day TV promo on the local news station. As fate would have it, I got a second chance at TV superstardom one fine Los Angeles Sunday last summer.
I had woken up that morning with the kind of hangover only an incredible/outrageous weekend could induce and knew that my only options were to start drinking or dying. I was saved by a text message from a close friend asking if I wanted to go to an end of summer barbecue for a major television network so after struggling into some clothes and still wearing last night’s make up, we drove over to Beverly Hills. On the way, she informed me that cameras might be present so we would need to sign a release form. No big deal, my college was host to a large body of film students so I was used to the process plus it’s LA, you don’t really question things like that.
Sure enough, outside the front of a massive mansion was a guy with a clip board and headset who had us sign the release forms and take a picture with a number. For the record, I hate being in front of the camera, public speaking, or anything else that requires me to be in the public eye but the friend who invited us had told us that there was the possibility of getting in the background of what they were filming so the release was just precautionary. With that in mind, we walked through the gates into the party. Umm…the large company event we were expecting turned out to be about 15 people awkwardly standing around a pool plus several camera crews. There was no music, no dancing, no swimming, no real food (it was all bite sized hors d’oeuvres that smelled like they’d been made from blended asshole, seriously if you got too close it would probably give you a chemical peel), and people seemed too interested in being rich and fabulous to have any fun. It was awkward, you could cut the desperation with a knife. We found the person we knew who introduced us to a few people and then magically disappeared. We were soon approached by a couple of girls with a camera crew following closely behind, both girls were wearing six inch heels (probably to hide the fact that they were four feet tall) and mini dresses, which made it clear that we were underdressed. The shorter one, who I will call Gremlin Bitch, seemed to be the host and abruptly asked, “Uhh who are you?” After explaining who we knew at the “party”, she turned away and dramatically announced, “UGH R—- always invites random people!”
Now, several thoughts ran through my mind at this point since it was clear that we were not welcome. Firstly, what the hell kind of Stepford Wives/90210 shit did we just walk into?? And secondly, how the fuck do we get out of here?!? As my friend and I were trying to process what had just happened while desperately thinking of a way to escape without being seen, Gremlin Bitch returned and smiling us much as the Botox would let her, invited us to take shots. Hallelujah! I knew we weren’t done suffering through this party but at least we could dull the pain. As soon as the Patron went down and they’d apparently gotten enough camera footage, the hospitality disappeared. After a few more snide remarks that we tried to ignore, Gremlin wandered away again and we immediately turned to the bartender who kindly made us some sort of vodka concoction. The party did not improve and we knew that though it would be rude to leave so soon after drinking their booze, it would also be rude to drain the entire bar to handle the awkwardness. We were trapped.
Eventually, it became so unbearable that we decided to throw away the social graces and find the guy who had invited us to bid him adieu. As we made our way back over to the hors d’oeuvres table, we were stopped in our tracks by Gremlin bestie. Every movement was so overdramatic that I felt like I was standing in front of a real life cartoon character and I knew what she was going to say before she’d even opened her mouth. “Umm, excuse me. This is an exclusive party with people I’ve known for at least seven years so you need to leave.” I’d really like to know what look the camera was capturing on my face at this point because it was somewhere between hysterical laughter and relief. We mumbled some apologies and beelined for the exit, trying desperately to remain composed but as soon as we reached the street we burst out laughing. We had been there fifteen minutes.
As it turns out, the huge company party was actually a pilot episode of some terrible reality show and we had obviously been set up. My first reaction was anger, but the events we had just experienced were so absurd that we could’t help but laugh at ourselves. Though I may end up on some TV show as the token weirdo who gets kicked out of an intimate gathering, I learned two very important things that day:
1. Don’t ever sign anything without knowing fully what it involves!
2. It’s not fun to be cool. If you don’t even have a full bar at your party because you’re trying to cut calories then you are a sad, sad person. I refuse to give up my right to drunkenly sing along to Chumbawamba at 90’s night for that kind of life. Plus, this kind of makes me a D List celebrity, right?