There's this big weekly party on Tuesdays at the Standard so there was a huge line outside tonight when I pulled up to the valet. I could get in no problem as a hotel guest but I've chosen to hang out in my room and watch an episode of Nash Bridges next to a pile of day-old pancakes, which I keep nibbling on. I'm no snob.
It was a busy day starting at 8:30 a.m. with breakfast at the Mondrian's restaurant Asia de Cuba, which was more Cuba than Asia but as far as huevos rancheros go, excellent. Though dreary like NYC when we woke up, the sun eventually came out during a nice drive out to Santa Monica, where we wasted some time on the Pier and my face got a little color. It was a reprieve from my day full of meetings, which ended nicely at the Beverly-Wilshire lounge (and a fantastic manchego cheese plate, plus the complimentary spicy nuts and olives and breads).
Instead of joining my colleagues for a margarita-soaked Mexican dinner I went to the LA branch of my weekly cold reading series, but it was a total bust. When I left early I had convinced myself that my car had been stolen because I just didn't remember parking that far down the street. Fortunately I didn't lose my mind and kept walking.
Rounding out the night was a quick stop at Amoeba, a half hour before they closed, where I snagged the Greg Dulli solo album, Mark Geary's latest, and a MTV-branded bhangra compilation from India. Can't wait to listen.