Here's an overview of last weekend:

1. Halloween.

I don't even know where to begin. Halloween was always my favorite holiday until I experienced Mardi Gras, which is now my numero uno. Halloween is a very close second place. I love to dress up, I love to go to parties, and I love to see how other people express their creativity with their costumes. Ever since October 1st, people have asked me what my plans were for Halloween. I was invited to several different get-togethers in various areas of town. A party in Hollywood, the pier at Hermosa, house parties in the South Bay, yada yada yada. The consensus was that no matter what I wound up doing on Halloween night, the absolute MUST was to go to the "parade" in West Hollywood.

2. West Hollywood.

My dear friend Todd has been my tour guide since I met him about a month ago through his roommate. He's lived here for four years and he knows all of the hidden secrets and not-so-hidden tourist attractions in L.A. He's taken me for a few drives in the mountains and shown me some cool little places that a lot of people don't know about. This works out well, because he likes to be the tour guide, and I hate driving with a vengeance (especially in L.A.), so we make a good team of onlookers. Todd drove me to West Hollywood early- around 6 PM, and already, things were crazy.

Everywhere we went there was a big array of feathers and sparkles and glitter. Everyone was androgynous. I saw some beautiful "women," and I also saw some big meaty hosses. People smelled delicious. Seriously. All of that glamorous eye candy and everyone smelled like designer cologne. It was insane. I got a picture with Elizabeth Taylor. She probably doesn't qualify in the "beautiful women" category, but this picture was hilarious enough to add.

3. House Party.

After mustering about all that we could in West Hollywood, Todd brought me home so I could prepare for my next stop: a house party. My friend Robin came over and we got all glammed up. I was supposed to be a flamingo. I had this grandiose idea in my mind that didn't really play out in real life. I made a long black and pink sparkly beak, but it made my face hot, so I never wore it. I just wore my pink feathery outfit and big fake eyelashes. I sort of looked like Madeline Kahn in "Blazing Saddles." Not really so scandalous, because all of my questionable parts were covered, but I walked around in high heels and feathers and sort of felt like I should be singing songs about needing a gentleman in a saloon.

The party was a flop. We showed up without my friend who invited us arriving yet, so we walked in without knowing ANYONE to be bombarded by a Heath-Ledger style Joker, who was already pretty plastered and kept obnoxiously laughing in our faces. There is nothing more disgusting than a thick Budweiser spray of germs in your face. Sick. My friend finally showed up with another of my girl friends and we all took a few pictures. Robin and I decided to leave and meet up with some other friends.

The thing is, when we got to my house to devise a plan, we didn't really want to fight the traffic, fight the crowds, risk getting hit by a drunk driver, or anything else, so we wound up just screwing around at my apartment and not really doing anything. We texted everyone we knew with no luck. We passed out like old ladies at 3 AM. Here we are during our self-portrait session:

4. A Visit from Miss Bobbi.

The next day was when things got crazy. I woke up sort of early and tried to vacuum up all of my feathers from the night before. My dear friend Miss Bobbi came to visit because she was in L.A. running a race. A special shout out to Miss Bobbi for showing me how to upload pics on my Blog! What would I do without her? She actually got me started blogging. I always thought that blogging was for dorks, but now I'm addicted. I used to think grad school was for dorks, too, but here I am. Yikes. OK, moving on...

5. Cabo Cantina.

Bobbi and I started our "girls' weekend" (I put this in quotations not because we have had gender reassignment surgery, but because I feel like girls' weekends should include a big group of girls. There were only two of us, so I feel like it was a mini-girls' weekend, if such a thing exists) with a shopping trip to the mall. I never go to the mall, so this was fun, though I didn't buy anything. I spend so much money on gas/groceries/eating out that I rarely buy clothes or knick knacks. Next stop: Cabo Cantina, my favorite place in Venice. I always go here because the food and drinks are cheap and because it's right by the beach. Plus, everyone there is young and people are always friendly to each other. This is when things start to get crazy. First of all, some nutcase with an afro approaches Bobbi and asks her if she is Brazilian, because HE is from Brazil. He was actually cute. He had a gap in his front teeth like Madonna. My dad has a gap in his front teeth. I've always been a fan. I had one when I was a kid but it sort of grew together, I guess. Anyway, we got rid of this guy after he gave us this long history about his tattoos and how they were the names of his children and he built the set for Spiderman 3 and he told me I had the brightest eyes he'd ever seen. Not sure what that does to women in Brazil, but that doesn't make me want to give out my phone number. We politely were able to show him that we weren't interested and he walked away.

Next crazy person: we are approached by a guy in full Indian gear. I mean Native American. Whatever. He was wearing a full headdress, a loin cloth, body paint, and moccasins. He also looked like he was about 15 years old. The thing about Cabo is that you never have to leave your table. Crazy people just walk right up to you and start talking. So Mr. Geronimo invites us to a party. Then a lady walks by selling roses. She's always walking around selling roses. I get embarrassed by stuff like that. I don't really like a guy buying me a rose in public because it has this chick-flick connotation. I'm walking around with a rose? Seriously? That seems dumb. Anyway, so Cloud Dancing buys me a rose and then Bobbi and I ditch him and leave. She and I decide to walk around the pier and call some of our mutual friends to tell them that we're hanging out together in L.A.

Next, I see this homeless man. Now, I see homeless people all the time, but ever since I got yelled at by one when I first moved here, I have avoided them like the plague. I have been reading this book recently though. It's called "The Mole People," and it's about homeless people in NYC who live down in the subway tunnels. The book discloses their stories and how they became homeless, etc. It made me realize that these people have history and they get to this place for some reason or another. I looked at my stupid rose and decided that this man could probably use a little brightness in his day, so I gave it to him. He was thrilled. Here he is:

6. Next Stop: Hollywood.

It should be noted that I am not much of a go-outer these days. I love to go to a dive bar, eat some guacamole, watch a football game, go to the beach, etc. My life is stressful enough, so I like to enjoy the "chill" activities that L.A. has to offer. I don't really like all of the hype that comes with going to the clubs. I love to dance, but it isn't always worth dealing with the sleazy rich guys, lack of parking, feet-crippling high heels, bla bla bla. But, Miss Bobbi and I really wanted to go dance, so we got all hooched up and made our way to Hollywood.

7. Le Deux.

Le Deux is the big fancy-pants place that is very status-conscious, which is funny to me, because clubs in MEMPHIS have a lot more to offer, I think, but it's got a reputation, so we decided to make our way there. Parking sucked. We parked a few blocks away in a shady lot and somehow found our way in a big crowd of people. Clark Kent rallied us in and we made our way to the door. Some Boston Red Sox guy gave a little whisper to the bouncer, and just like that, we were inside. We danced with all kinds of people in costume. It was crazy. Then I became even more aware of how much guys are lacking in "game" these days. When someone offered to buy us drinks, and I said diet coke, this is what home boy replied:

"Why you gettin' diet coke? You think you's fat? You ain't fat. You's perfect. You ain't gotta drink no Diet Coke."

Anyone thinking of Napoleon Dynamite?

"I see you're drinking 1%. Is that ' cause you think you're fat? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole if you wanted to."

Here's a pic of me and Bobbi pretending to be Hollywood socialites:
We met all kinds of interesting people. We met shoe designers for Aldo, professional poker players, people in business, people who did this and that. Of course, they could have all been lying. I make up fake names and stories sometimes when I go out. My sister and I went incognito as "Randy" and "Candy" this past summer.

We concluded the night at a VIP table with Clark Kent & company whom we had met at the beginning of the night. It was nice to end the evening there, because right before that, some stinky guy named Adam kept asking for my number, and his stinkiness was so awful that i kept walking away. Blaaah. The thought of his stench is still lingering in my mind. After being spoiled by the warm vanilla smell of West Hollywood the night before, Adam's man musk was far more abhorrent to me than it probably would have been another time.

As Miss Bobbi and I made our way out of the club, our feet were killing us, and we were stumbling down the street. Some crazy Argentinean guy talked to us for a while. We were also approached by Fred Flintstone who kept trying to lure us onto his party bus. He kept saying, "Let me give you a ride back to South Bay! I'll bring you back to your car tomorrow!" Yeah freaking right. Neither of us were drunk, so we didn't need a driver, and we weren't stupid enough to get on a stranger's bus. We were stupid enough, however, to get in a police car. More to follow on that.

We were eventually approached by some crazy guy with an accent who called us v-words. Now, I know a lot of parents make it a requirement for their children to use medical terminology for their private parts instead of using nicknames, which is fine, I guess. I will still never be a fan of the v-word. So this white-trash foreigner says something about the v-word, and we were appalled. But then...

8. Credit Cards Save Us.

Just as we are telling home boy that he's white trash for saying the v-word in front of two ladies, we are saved by two guys dressed up like credit cards. These guys had the banter of the Mac vs. PC commercials. Hilarious. So they were wearing "American Distress" credit card outfits and they protected us from the creepers. They also accused me of looking like Jenny McCarthy. I have actually heard that on numerous occasions before, so I wasn't too offended.

9. The Cop Car.

As Bobbi and I parted ways with all of our fans, we were stumbling down the street in agony because of our shoes. I guess the cops thought that we were wasted because it would have been physically impossible to pass the straight-line test. So these cops pull up the curb and yell,

"Hey! Are you ladies all right? Do you need a ride?"

My paranoia made me word-vomit a bunch of shenanigans to the po-lice. We all know what Dr. Dre says about the po-lice.

"Are you guys serial killers dressed up like cops? Can we see some I.D.? Are you just trying to get us in the back seat of your car because we're hot mommas? Your job is to protect and serve, so if we get in that car, you better be gentlemanly and honor your motto!"

We got into the back of the po-lice car and they drove us to our car in the shady lot. It was awesome. I wish I had taken a pic.

10. Go Home, Crash, and Conclude Another Awesome Weekend in L.A.