For lack of a better title: off day in LA

So you know in all those “old time” Hollywood type movies you see those film executives looking all dapper and totes “To the nines” (ask your mom) in silk pants and velour shirts that don’t have the top 3 or so buttons done so you can see their graying chest hair an unnecessary gold chain that’s placed purposely, subtly, at the maximum shine point in their man cleavage? Well if you don’t apparently you need to ask Mom about that too.

We found their hive.

As it was Easter Sunday, the Rockstar AP Tour took a day off. So I wake up at the undisclosed hour that I felt was appropriate to awake on such a day of rest and relaxation, to our bus being parked in the parking lot of an establishment crowned the Sportsman Lodge. The easiest way to explain what I walked into is by simply stating that our bus driver, John (yes, his name is John, not Joe, or Dan or Steve. I have this one right!), waltzes back on the bus boasting that he just saw David Caruso hop in his Bentley there. It’s not that I have anything against David or CSI, it’s just he conjures up an image or “old-timer” Hollywood to me for some reason. I’m probably not painting the best picture of this place, but it f’reals felt like anybody who was anybody in the film industry in the 1950’s was at this place for Easter Dinner at 3 in the afternoon.

Or maybe that’s just the vibe I got. Rumor has it there were some lovely ladies sitting poolside. Moving on.

It was actually a pretty low-key day until dinner time. Indy and I were both hangin on the bus getting some work done. We watched the end of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie (Commando, maybe?), bit’s of ATL, because T.I. is my homeboy and the beginning of the immaculate The Food Of The Gods. This movie is beyond spectacular. Netflix this right away. Seriously, open a new tab and queue that shiz up. I’ll wait.










Back?
Ok, the premise of TFOTG (yes, we are on an anagram basis, got a problem?) is that a pro football team has had a grueling couple of weeks of practice, so they get an off day to relax. Well a few of the players decide to take a ferry to a local island and spend a day in the wilderness. What they come to find is a farm on the island with giant sized flies, rats and roosters! My lord the giant roosters! Tragically, one of the untouchable stars of the football team was killed by one of the ridiculously large flies of the island, oh my! So before I go all “Classics According To Keith” on you I will cut my cinematic waxing short and say only that what follows is an touching action love story with comedic highs and daunting lows (give or take the love part, Indy and I actually stopped watching in favor of getting sushi with J-O-H-N, John, our bus driver. J-O-N, Jon from the Matches filled us in on the details when we got back).

So the sushi. I’ll glance over this. The dinner was a lot of fun, good convo all the way around, but if you get a chance drop in on Ahi Sushi on Ventura in the general LA area. Really good. If you don’t like sushi, well, expand you palate.

So we get back to the bus and the “oh, whatever shall we DO with the evening” question raises it’s head. Naturally, as the generally extroverted lot of the AP/Matches tour bus goes, the notion of Karaoke bar was the easily prevailing option. There is, however, as it turns out, a slight problem with going Karaoke barring on Easter Sunday in the Burbank-ish area. They aren’t open. No biggie though, the plans were slightly modified and I was accordingly afforded the circumstance that is allowing me to bring you mention of an AP Tour co-headliner I’ve yet to formally bring to the blog and (!) a special guest star that I hope you’ll be stoked on hearing about.

We wind up at some gin joint called the Casting Office. Apparently there’s some history there or something. Honestly I don’t really know. Honestly I’m not all that sure that I care. Anyway, we stroll in, crickets chip, tumbleweeds roll. The place is empty save for 2 random with chairs pulled up at the bar. Do not fear though, because nary a few minutes after my small posse overtook the place our special guests arrive. Unbeknownst to us, AP’s friends Meg and Dia of . . . yeah . . . MEG AND DIA showed up to say a quick hello and share a quick beverage. Apparently they’re in town not only upping the cute factor of the entire city, but also working on a new album for all you bright-eyed bushy-tailed fans out there. Their visit that night was brief, as they left shortly after, but it was an extremely welcome one.

No sooner do they leave than, slightly less randomly, but just as equally welcomed, Mr. Bryce and the Rocket Summer crew crash the party. As you all know and have pointed out to me, I haven’t had much of a chance to just relax with those guys yet so it was really nice to sit and chat. That is, until the bar may or may not have started burning down. I’m not really sure what happened, and I think I’m ok with that, but out of no where we saw this fairly thick smoke rising from behind a door a few booths over and the very distant smell of burning crept up our noses. Shortly thereafter a man emerged from the smoky crevice claiming that all was well and that he was a firefighter in a former life. Nothing about that sequence of events was as comforting as it sounds. Whether or not the smoke was of the monster variety and was or was not comprised of nano-bots remains to be seen.

XOXO
ChrisAtAP