Allergens, Armenians, Armen, the Zoo

I think I'm allergic to Santa Barbara. The combination of mechanized mold, a well organized dust infantry unit, and reconnaissance ocean particles have proved a formidable force that pushes my nose to surrender every morning. Chapped lips, cant breathe, headaches--these are my nights.

I got some stories to tell.

My family's here from Israel, and by that I mean the overseas family we're still in contact with. Sigalit and her two kids, age 9 and 4, arrived here last Friday night. We're busy doing touristy stuff, and I never realized Universal Studios was so much fun, and that walking around 3rd street promenade with a three year old on your shoulders really gets the chicks to flock like hot sheep. We cut lines, using the 'switch pass' and went on Jurassic Park thrice. It's super fun. The camera snapped my mom's face right before the drop--imagine having a plate of cholent or a shawarma in a pita slip out of your grip after slaving for hours in the kitchen. Times that by 10--that was her. If you don't get the metaphor, then I'[m sorry, but, this blog isn't for you.

They all went to the LA zoo today, and I just couldn't make it. First off, I went there, a few months ago, and wasn't that impressed. It's not like it used to be--it looks smaller, there are less aminals, the monkeys aren't cute, just annoying. But the main reason was because I got in LATE last nite.

Went out for sushi at Miyagi's on Sunset--with girls!--did some sake bombing, got a little hammered but could've still operated light scale machinery I sweardagod, then we bounced across the street to Standard for drinks. Sorry if this sounding self-indulgent, but hey, it's my blog. I really need to stop apologizing, now. A whiskey sour, vodka tonic, and two champagne/peach drinks that sounded like bulemia between the four of us, and after the club decided to stop serving alcohol, we left.

Only Joey didn't have his fucking keys.

Sunset Strip. 2:30 a.m., rapidly closing in on three, and we're stranded, with two Jewish girls.
What do we do?

"Uh, hi. Is the bathroom open? It's locked? Fuck, I mean, can you open it?"
"Yes, we open it. Julio! The bathroom!"
"Oh, and, how much is a room here?"
"We're booked solid," says friendly Korean hotel night-time manager.
"Solid? You mean, no rooms?"
"Yes. No rooms. Go to Hyatt."
"How much is that, man?"
"Start at 245."
"Dollars or yen?"
"Dollars. You want I call for you?"
"Dollars? Two hundred and forty five dollars?"
"Yes. Where you going?"

I run into 2 Napoletan right outside the club. We exchange numbers. We take a taxi. Our driver is this asshole Armenian named Armin, (good title for a movie?) and the fare was around $65. Joey dropped 40, but altogether the night was one of his most expensive, since he covered drinks, dropped around 30 for dinner, and now this. BUT, THE NIGHT DID NOT END THERE MY FRIENDS. Because he was facing an $80 ticket if he didn't retrieve his BMW by 8 am, we drove right back to the city, spare keys in hand, to get his damn car. We had 4 hours till the deadline. We made it there and back in 45 minutes. I crashed at 5.15 after reading a bit of Foer.

And that's why I didn't go to the zoo at 8:15 today.