White Russian or is Russian Standard Party

In summary, it was a pretty awesome weekend.

It was one of those weekends that you can only truly have in your 20's. Except that I am not in my 20's, far from it.

I am not in my 20's and I am very slightly beginning to feel like I stick out like a sore thumb at these things. Atlanta is not as big as people think. There are lots of people, yes, but the same set of people end up attending the same events. And since we all get to see each other all the time, I am beginning to (1) get tired of seeing the same ole' faces (which must be reciprocal) and (2) feel like I am sticking out like a sore thumb because the only constant in my attendance at these things is that I show up alone. I don't know what that says about me.

I had the distinct pleasure of attending the launch party for Russian Standard Vodka at this super secret mansion where we had to be shuttled in buses from a general location. Apparently, the mansion, titled Lions Gate is on display, sort of like a museum where you buy tickets to tour it in support of the Save a Smile Foundation. The invite read: 7 million dollar mansion with over 20 million dollar in furnishings. I thought, okay then, this should be fun for a Friday evening.

The first point of contact took forever to locate. Who knew having an address with slight differences of NW and NE would make a huge difference of about 3 miles. I didn't. I thought it didn't matter at all. So several miles later, I made it to the pick up location, signed the waiver form (of course, without reading it) and boarded the bus. I didn't see anyone I recognized so I thought, so far so good. As soon as we made touchdown at the mansion, which resembled a ski lodge in Aspen, Colorado, you walk into these tents that wrap around the back garden revealing lush gardens, a very deep pool set off with a platform diving board and a waterfall highlighted with lights. Yes, the house took palatial mansion term that seriously. There were various booths spread across the grounds set up to serve variations of cocktails made with our sponsoring drink.

The event itself was amazing. The set up was exquisite and effortlessly planned from top to bottom. From the drop off to the pick up. There were several open bars set up so we didn't have to wait more than a couple of minutes to get a drink. Nothing I hate more than standing in line to get a drink. It just ruins the whole experience for me especially when you have to pay for the drinks. The bartenders were superbly professional, seemed like they were having fun, not afraid to experiment with the different permutations of the vodka. We also had specific tables set up for the "Russian experience", that is, doing shots in Russian, several ice sculptures and of course, the painted dancing ladies that we've all come to know, gawk at and love at these events. Then, an interesting mixed crowd of fun loving people. There were married people, single people, people that hardly go out but decided to just this once, older people, distinguished looking people, and of course me.

However, it won't be an Atlanta event if you don't run into the same nameless faces that often grace these events. We don't as much as acknowledge each other but there is an inherent recognition in our smirks. I've come to make friends with some of them and the evening is usually spent catching up on our past activities. On this night, I bumped into one of my male friends who I last saw at one of these events about a year ago and we spent the whole evening catching up, so much so that even though I stopped to chat with a few new faces here and there, and got to shoot the shit with some newcomers to the fold, I didn't really make any new connections per se. That to me was the only downer. I should really learn to break away from old acquaintances in order to meet new ones. It gets so hard at times and everyone has their guard up once you arrive, either they're texting away on their phones or clutching on to their significant others for dear life, that I feel like talking to them would cause an intrusion. Then, as the alcohol sets in they learn to disentangle and get to mingle with others. It's always fun at this point. But by this time I've already found someone to get tangled up with so in essence I am working in reverse.

Apart from that the night was superb. Exceptional evening. I have the pictures to prove it.

Party at the W.

Part of my weekend involved a lot of outings that didn't really make sense together.

"So what places do you go to?" she asked me, obviously observing that I seemed a lot more worldly than she did.

This was my second stop on Saturday. I had attended this Cocktails and Couture event held at the (in)famous Whiskey Blue in the W Hotel in Buckhead. This is one of my least favorite venues. It is nestled in the Lenox area hotel hub; tight and snug between several hotels. The other hotels flanked to the right and left of it offer parking for their guests, some at more reasonable rates for periods of 2 hours or less. But not the W. I found this out the hard way and had to pay $12 to park my car for 1 hour. They must have thought this was New York. 

Saturdays are those days where you really should concentrate on your housework or the gym and dash all hopes of going out or doing something substantial, because nothing substantial really exists. People expend too much energy and time scheduling all the events on Friday, when they really should give Saturday a try. I mean, you can still sleep in the following day even better because you slept in the day of (quite unlike Friday). Fridays, I am pooped after waking up so early to tackle work and its attendant craziness, that all I really want to do is crash at home after it's all over. And I have been known to do this, just to be all gung-ho, rearing for adventure on Saturday, then saddened by a lack of activity.

So on this Saturday there actually was something that seemed reasonable except it was at the W, my least favorite place. What was a girl to do except attend. It was a fashion cocktail event with the special guest as the Project Runway contestant from Atlanta. Hit or miss? I thought miss. He is no celebrity. Plus, it's at the freaking W Hotel. Let me premise this by saying that the W Hotel does have a great rooftop lounge with amazing panoramic views of the Buckhead/Midtown area. It's breathtaking. Very posh, chic spot to hang out on a hot day, perfect setting to have a cocktail or throw a party - bachelor or bachelorette style. It's not all bad, once you get through the parking snafu, the cloak and dagger at the door with the henchman looking security and the mediocre decor of the lounge chairs (I won't mention the outrageous drink prices because hotel bars are notorious for their prices, not everyone is on an expense account), you're fine. But in contemplating these hiccups, you instantly talk yourself out of going, and another place with fewer hiccups suddenly seems more promising. On a night with no plans, no other place immediately comes to mind. So there I was, determined to make something of this Saturday.

I chose to park at Lenox Mall. Dress somewhat casual so I could make the walk unnoticed from the mall a couple of blocks over to the W Hotel. Wearing comfortable shoes, no less. I did. It was breezy but it worked. I went through security, the elevator with some other ladies who were so dressed up I assumed they must have more serious plans after this is all over, and got in.

 

There were a lot of people here. A lot. All nicely dressed thus fulfilling the couture portion of the event, and all snooty. What is it about snooty atmospheres that beget snooty people? If we were in some ramshackle dive bar, listening to blues/rock, downing cheap beers, would they be snooty, nope. But this is the W, where the beers cost $7, that price tag alone demands snootiness. I made my way through the crowd trying to find one less snooty person among them. This was not an easy task. People dressed in their Sunday best do not necessarily feel the need to want to break the ice with total strangers. Besides I was not as dressed up as they were. The only nice lady was a girl from Germany who was cornered by some guy who was seriously trying to get his mack on with her, while all she wanted to do was socialize. She asked me to join them but I declined. I did not want to mess up this guy's mojo. He looked determined. I downed a couple of very expensive beers and left, making the walk back to the car.

Right in Lenox Mall lies a restaurant that I've never been to try that always seems busy with happy people. I decided to try them on for size just because I was famished and needed a change of pace from that pretentious atmosphere I had just immersed myself in. It was empty and the food was blah! My only companion was this young lady, another "Charlotte" who wanted to find out about my adventures. I obliged her. Had a few more drinks and rushed home to see Betty White on SNL. Which I dare say, was the highlight of my evening. The people watching at the W was not that bad either.

Night better spent alone

We interrupt this to provide you with a (somewhat) brief review of my weekend.

Conclusion: High and dry as usual.

I was supposed to go to the club - Tongue and Groove -- with one of my meetup groups. I made the mistake of inviting a couple of my girlfriends. Every time I meet girlfriends out and about, they always want to hang out with me. They think I am adventurous, ballsy, fun-loving, all the things they would like to be too which is great. I love to make new friends but they always end up being, how can I say this - demure, fish out of water women. Like I am Carrie in Sex and the City and they are Charlotte. I never meet the Samantha or even Miranda. It's always a Charlotte-type persona who wants me to be her fun chaperone, the one that convinces her to leave the couch, drop the icecream, turn off the TV, take off the sweatpants and do something fun and risque for a change such as "go to the club".

After getting turned down repeatedly, I immediately knew that I may end up going by myself. The first couple of people had the slight pause in between texts. You know when you send someone a text saying, this is where I am going, this is the address, this is the time. Then, there's that long pause. At this point they are thinking about what exactly to tell you, what excuse can they concoct. Luckily for me, my attending an event is not dependent on you coming with me. I often or not tell them this. I am going either way so you can either come with me or you don't. But fun will be had as I am determined to go.

They eventually responded with a No. "I don't have the energy for a club. I thought you hated clubs." Yes, I do. But it's not like I go every weekend. Nevertheless, I got dressed and left my house. On my way out I bumped into one of my neighbors, a lady who commented on how nice I looked. I thought that was nice. Women are rarely flattering of other women. However, I digress. 

Being that I arrived tonight solo I thought it would give me a chance to be bad and not have to live up to anyone's expectations of how I am supposed to act. This was not the case. I bumped into another lady I had met a few weeks ago at a comedy show. She had arrived there with a guy friend of hers, who she claimed "is not trying to get with her," just trying to be her friend. I should have known something was up by the way she was dressed, even though she claimed she didn't expect there to be an event of any sort in the club. She didn't have her "club gear" on: too tight clothing, high heel shoes, flashy makeup. Everything about her appearance was simple. If she had been a guy they would have turned her away at the door. Also, she didn't drink. She drank soda all evening. I am always weary of the fun level of people who don't drink. At least have one drink. To not drink at all, instantly puts me on notice.

As the night wore on she insisted that we hang out together - I be her wingman and she'd be mine. This is fine with me if you are ready to have fun. Since I do not do this very often I would at least like to let loose now that I am here. This was not the case with this girl. She didn't dance. She didn't flirt. She didn't even move. We did a lot of walking around to peruse the guys that were there but after countless circles around the perimeter, nothing would result. There were only a couple of them that looked promising to me and one of them had been staring at me all night so I took the opportunity to talk to him a bit. But the second I stopped to flirt with him she would drag my hand to keep on moving. At this point I knew the only way I could get her off my tail is to get her talking to someone she's interested in. Many guys walked her way but she didn't fancy them. The only one she fancied was some Middle-Eastern guy who stood at the corner with a distinct unibrow and a brooding look on his face. After much tugging and resistance from her, I finally went to talk to him for her sake (and mine as well). Just like I thought, he couldn't speak English. He was from Dubai, hanging out in the VIP lounge (yes, because they have the money like that) with his friends and could barely put a sentence together. I told her this and she was bummed. She immediately thought he made it up and spent the rest of the evening sullen telling every other guy who walked up to her that some guy had made up some story about not speaking English just so he wouldn't have to talk to her. Yes, it got worse. 

There you have it, Reason No. 2 why I choose to go solo. Women are rarely good wingmen. It's not really their role. They lean towards Debbie Downers more than Wingmen and have the tendency to wreck your outing. So if you really want to let loose without any inhibitions, go it alone I promise you, you'll have more fun that way.

LA...finally

I don't know why I haven't actually written about my 2 day L.A. trip. 

One, my computer was out of commission so I had to resuscitate the old one and secondly, I just got sidetracked with scheduling some more vacation time. But all that doesn't matter, now I have to write about it because even though it was just 2 days, more like a day and a half, I had a wonderful time. An introspective time. It was one of those cities that I underestimated but certain parts of it blew me away.

L.A. is beach beautiful.

Just so clear and crisp. I bet the people who live there would say different but I got that feeling when I got there. That crisp and airy feeling like I wasn't clustered. Maybe it was the mountains or the fact that it has several beaches supplying that much needed air or maybe that's just the kind of city it is, but it was open and airy and fresh. Plus, the people all looked so pretty and nicely done up, thus adding some more to the crispiness of the place. They were not nice, no doubt, but I suppose if you look good you don't have to be nice. Who knows? Everyone seems so preoccupied in themselves, it's almost like a self-absorption. That I expected and received so I was not perturbed by it. I didn't expect it to be so open, like I had been living in this closed box and all of a sudden, the lid was opened to let air, sunshine, breeze flow right into it. Looking at the landscape from the plane on my way home and comparing that to the landscape in Atlanta, was a huge contrast. So much greenery here while I just saw rolling mountains, beaches, beach sand and palm trees. It's understandable, landscaping wise alone, why people would choose to move there. The greenery here now irritates me. Everywhere I go there are trees, forests, green parks and mosquitoes, lots and lots of mosquitoes.  I love nature but not this kind of nature, not the wildlife kind, I want the beachy kind where the hippies live and soak up the sun all day everyday. That's the kind of nature I can deal with. Not the mosquito kind. 

That's my L.A. story. Totally different from New York which is hustle and bustle central. Once again using the closed box analogy, NY is that box but that box filled with people, mixed race, culturally diverse people, while Atlanta is that same closed box except filled with the greenery and people that are a little more of the same kind, the myopic inclined southerners.

My hotel in LA was superb. Super, superb. I just loved everything about it. Good thing because I had a very bad allergy attack on the flight over there. It didn't even let me enjoy my very expensive Virgin America flight. It was my first time on Virgin so I really wanted to take it in. Common was on the same flight with me so that was my first celebrity encounter. We went through security together and waited for the "on-time" departure of the flight to LA. In LAX, celebrities are dusted all over the place. I could have sworn I saw Troy Garity making a phone call at one of the concourses. There were others as well but they were flanked by heavy security. 

The superb hotel, Custom Hotel, picked me up from the airport and let me check in early which made me so grateful because the head cold made me really need a chance to lie down. I had a room with a swell view of LA and the once again the openness. I am sure traffic exists in some pods here and there but not in the area where I was, which was Marina Del Ray/Playa Del Ray. I bet you living there would cost a little bit more just because it's devoid of delinquents, and it will be worth it. I then proceeded to loose a whole day of my vacation indoors, recovering from the allergy attack. I did nothing except cuddle up, eat, drink and watch HBO.

One thing I should mention which I would never forget is this. I walked over to Bristol Farms to get something to eat. Bristol Farms is like Whole Foods with freshly prepared food. Forgetting myself and keeping with my tradition, I grabbed a bottle of Champagne and proceeded to check out. Only it was Sunday, and they don't sell alcohol on Sunday in Georgia. I also noticed that no one else had alcohol in their carts so I was worried that the cashier would embarrass me. in my effort to pre-empt the embarrassment, I asked him, can you buy alcohol on Sunday?" He was shocked. He quickly asked, "Where are you from? Ma'am, this is California, you can buy alcohol on Sunday. Oh-er, we got another one." Then, he proceeded to laugh profusely. Noticing my embarrassment, he apologized and said, he understood my plight he has also moved here from some other bible thumping state. 

There are other things I remember that made this very short and sweet trip to the city of angels very memorable and one I promised myself to do as often as my finances (and vacation time) shall allow. The openness resonates in me, which I assume is reflected in certain freedoms the people enjoy. You get on the bus and there's a derelict sitting right there with you and the people don't bat an eyelid.

Before I left I spotted some other celebrities here and there. I couldn't help noticing how unaffected the people seemed to be as well. I just kept thinking, how does that happen? I walk on the street and look, there's Eli Roth and Peaches Geldof braving the cold wind on Melrose Avenue. 

That's L.A. in a nutshell. Would I move there? That fact remains to be seen.