Flowers for Angela

My dear little friend Angela is sick and only has the vast wilderness of the internet to keep her entertained so this post goes out to her in hopes of lifting her spirits.

Dear Angela,

I feel obligated to fill you in on what you missed this weekend while you were sitting in your cold apartment surrounded by mounds of crusty Kleenexes. I have to say, it wasn't a good weekend to miss. You probably should you strapped a diaper under your nose and ventured out anyway but since you didn't, here's an overview of key events.

First of all, here in LA we are getting ready for the Academy Awards that will take place tonight. Yesterday in Hollywood the entire street in front of Kodak Theater was already blocked off and blanketed in red plushy carpet and white flowers. The fat Elvis impersonators in front on Mann's Chinese Theater had renewed mojo and I even shared a genuine bear hug with a creepy 90 year old Lucille Ball impersonator. The idea that we were currently standing where America's darlings would be in just 24 hours was ridiculously intoxicating and all the tourists in Hollywood felt like royalty despite our ratty shirts and sensible shoes.

Old Town Pasadena was of course cooly indifferent to Hollywood's buzz. The mannequins in Banana Republic lounged snootily in their zebra striped wrap around dresses and the stark lights of Crate and Barrel made our otherwise ruddy cheeks chalky white. But despite Pasadena's efforts to remain above the passion of Hollywood, the Ghiradelli's Ice Cream Shop transported us to ethereal heights with their bone meltingly delicious brownie sundaes and oozing chocolate confections. Passion refuses to be quenched.

But to be sure, the most bizarre thing you missed this weekend was the Neil Diamond party held last night. Some friends came up with the idea of a Neil Diamond theme party where guests were expected to come dressed as Neil or the personification of one of his songs. And if that wasn't enough, there was a karaoke machine so that everyone could perform their favorite/most mocked Neil song. The chest hair was flying fast and furious as we 20-somethings scrambled to flaunt our meager wealth of Neil trivia. Spike of course, won the prize for over-the-top exposure of body hair. I was the only woman who had chosen to expose mine (lovingly drawn on with eyeliner). It was a bizarre, wonderful tribute to the king of the 70's complete with a flag waving rendition of America, my off-key performance of Cherry, Cherry, Neil-opolitan ice cream, and a plethora of jokes about girls becoming women.

So you've only been out of commission for a few days, but honey, you've missed a lot. In case you never recover from your mysterious ailment, you should die knowing that the party that is LA cannot be stopped. Granted, it is much more fun with you there so I'll probably be coming by today with inadequate offerings of aid. I have to get you ready for next weekend! Now go toddle off the bed and rest up some more. You are going to need it.

Get well soon, Love - Hollywood