Episode 25 - Epilogue of an Epic Adventure

We sense our time is drawing near to leave. This apocalyptic event requires that we take advantage of our pool and summer (we have been hearing reports of a brisk winter in Sydney). Experimenting with an archaic BBQ pool side is one example of this – there was a small spot fire in Hollywood, but Dave managed to keep it under control. We feast on kebabs for the next 3 days, the dilemma quickly became how to work off half a chicken coup and a small abattoir…

Dave works his off on the back of a Ducati, another vehicle to add to his repertoire. Exploring the Angeles National Park cliff tops as close to the edge as possible – Dave’s standard style. The videos he proudly displays on his return - skimming the gravel etc are a little alarming, but he is alive!

I top mine off with an Ocean of fish at Katsuya. We dine with the very entertaining Phil & Christine, spending the night piecing together the 4th July and sharing photos. Despite arriving at the Valet Parking in a Kia (NB. The Kia has not been washed for 2 months and at this point it looks like we pulled it out of the La Brea tar pits), we still feel Rock n’ Roll and pose for the Paparazzi at the door. They don’t budge.

The next day we figure we had better make the most of the last few hours on the Ducati before returning it. We pay homage to the fine beast with a ride through the canyons topped off with breakfast at Santa Monica.

Now how are we meant to top that off? Hmmm ‘Vegas Baby – Vegas’! An impromptu trip is planned in a matter of moments. Trump Tower here we come!

Just like the ‘Swingers’ version, during the first hour of our trip ‘Vegas, Baby, Vegas’ is punctuated with numerous exclamation marks. After a missed turn and sweltering in 43 degree heat, the slow drawl ‘Vegas, Baby… Vegas’ is all we can manage.

We pass the time in the car with themed iPod battles. The song may have to have a person’s name in it, a country theme, water reference, a Vegas icon, something you have seen on the trip – basically eye spy for adults. Mix this in with iPod Trivial Pursuit and Woolah – 6 hours have passed!

Arriving at midnight, we fall into a coma at our Gold Castle. Only after being upgraded to a top level suite – we still love the ‘We just got engaged’ card and have won many a hand of poker with it already.

Despite the perfect tanning conditions at Trump, the gold building reflecting onto us, the water reflecting up at us and the clear sky filled with more 43 degree heat, we head over to the Venetian pool to meet up with Nicks Junior. We find him being followed eagerly by a group of predatory cougars. After rescuing him we move on to the Tao pool area where the cocktails are punctuated with cucumber and the nipples are marked with stars!

‘Vegas the most wonderfully exciting horrible place’ – take note another gem of wisdom from Christian Nicks people. The facade, the phony sets and the phony sets (of breasts), it is true, it is all a show, a lie, but who doesn’t want a little escape now and then and here we are in the wonderful fairy tale land of Las Vegas!

Encounter one was a very humorous incident at the Cirque de Soleil show ‘O’. This entailed the bouncer as we entered telling us ‘no flash photography’, then oddly having our flash free camera revoked mid show, with a card to collect it later. Upon collection we had to delete the photos of ‘O’ in front of the security guard. The last photo pre show was of us celebrating our upgrade by Dave looking out the window of the 36th floor ‘butt’ naked, the poor security guy will have that image tattooed on his retinas for some time. We dine at Yellowtail, and watch the old men in ridiculous bling try and pick up the pretty young waitresses who smile appropriately for their tip. We catch up with Christian again and work the line at Tao nightclub, this place is big enough for its own postcode! We waltz past NBA star Marcus Camby and somehow continue into VIP! This is a lot easier without a Kia.

After a small bit of gambling with no real result we head home, only one more weekend left…

Swimming at the Newport wedge satiates our thrill seeker split personalities; lunch at Laguna Beach fills our stomachs. We quickly drive home past the OC Mountain Goats (yep actual mountain goats) and head to the Comedy Store with Alex, who is impressed with our terrible beat boxing/rapping skills. Dave heckles with the best of them alter ego Raoul - 1, Comedian – 0.

It is a day of golf for the boys at the ‘Swingers’ course, after 3 games it is a dead tie! We savour the last couple of days of swimming. Now here we are heading back to a country where there are almost as many cases of swine flu as in Mexico, and we are still flu free.

A work summary - 6 weeks of auditions, 15 auditions, 2 call backs, 1 hold, 2 conflicting jobs a good response from casting agents, but unfortunately the cash flow has come to an end (payment in modeling years is about as long as the difference between human and dog years)… Sadly it is time to leave, but at least we get to have an engagement party back in Sydney! LA we will miss you…S

Episode 24 - LA Icons

Every Monday in LA for the past 8 years at The Key Club, the sold-out sign goes up when the epic glam cock-rock band ‘Steel Panther’ are in the house. It’s best to leave your PC views at the door as these primped and preened 40+ year old guys regularly cross the boundaries between virtuoso metal performance, freak show and stand-up comedy. Shredding guitar solos are standard fare, as are covers of Poison, Guns n Roses and Motley Crue, and for good measure their own unique songs with such deep lyrics as ‘My heart is for you, but my cock is community property’. Amidst the chaos of leather tights, bandannas and big hair is a witty diatribe of misogyny, bigotry and an open appreciation of the female form, often displayed on stage and in the crowd by the more adventurous audience members.

Although our time wasn’t all spent flexing our cerebral matter. Appropriately on July 4 Weekend we choose to exercise our 2nd Amendment Rights – yes folks, I am a card carrying member of the LAX Gun Club, situated in the most ghetto appropriate location, Inglewood. Charlton Heston would be proud!! Fortunately there are 2 of us, as Californian law states non gun carrying individuals can not use a shooting range alone – something about the high number of incidents where disillusioned shooters turn the gun on themselves. So it is Sheriff Dave and his beautiful assistant who stride into the range with swagger. I choose the target that indicates actual bodily organs over Bin Laden (with a point score for each – who would have thought the left ventricle is worth more than the right?).

I didn’t expect my hands to be shaking, or my heart in my throat as I start loading the clip on my cop issue Glock 9. Every time another shooter on the range squeezes the trigger, we both jump 1 foot off the ground. Something about being in a room of complete strangers with loaded guns made us a little edgy. Not so much the old Jewish couple learning to blow the head off a home intruder (shooting within 10ft range only!), more so the guys with their own arsenal of weapons at their feet. But after squeezing off some rounds, I get the hang of this caper and take my target out from 60 feet. After this I move up to the more bad ass Smith & Wesson 40, and continue the devastation. Driving home, it’s only apt that N.W.A is on the stereo. I am a gangster from Inglewood. I can relate to their lyrics at last!!

Continuing to tick of the list of iconic LA episodes, we pack our own picnic hamper and head to the world famous Hollywood Bowl. Since 1922, the best talent in the world has graced this 17,000+ seat natural amphitheatre – The Beatles, Billie Holiday, Pavarotti, The Doors, The Rolling Stones. Taking inspiration from July 4, we are lucky enough to see All American hero John Fogerty (Credence Clearwater Revival) perform with the LA Philharmonic Orchestra. An eclectic mix of young families, old rockers, patriots and curious spectators (us) make up the appreciative crowd. With such an incredible back catalogue of music, a super tight band and the full sound of the LA Phil, Foggy tears up the stage showing many frontmen ½ his age how it’s done, leaving us literally dancing in the aisles.

The highlight of the show is the big finish – classic hits with a healthy serve of red, white and blue fireworks to top it all off, lighting up the Hollywood Hills in the colours of America. The journey home gives the fireworks a run for their money, as the 1000’s of stairs we climbed to our cheap seats present 100’s of metres of handrails, which we slide down with epic speed and precision!!

Topping off our July 4 Weekend trifecta of LA institutions, we take things up a level and break out the finest threads and kicks, for the glamour fest that is July 4 Pool Party at Mondrian Sky Bar. This is known as one of the finest (read exclusive) gigs of the year, so we employed some suitable tactics to ensure our smooth journey to the bar. A friend of ours booked a massive hotel suite for the night… Bingo!! After a long morning in our own pool, on arrival at the hotel our façade of uber-coolness is tested as we cringe when the valet takes away our Kia to a hidden place underground, a long way from the Maseratis and Ferraris parked ostentatiously out the front.

Stepping into the suite is like sliding down the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland into a surrealist dream. But you can’t deny the brilliance of the view across the entire LA basin, and also over the bar below packed with LA’s ‘finest’. A suitable metaphor, as they look down upon the rest of the city’s populous. From the room, at 9pm sharp we watch the entire city horizon bubble and burst in a plethora of colours, as fireworks from Santa Monica to Long Beach and further into the smog towards the OC light up the sky. After this (and a couple of drinks…!), we venture into the bar to soak up the fabmosphere, which I have to say was highly over-rated. When asked ‘do you want to meet recording artist Sean Paul’, my response is a flat ‘no’. I was more than enjoying the current company of friends as it was. Enough said.

Enjoying our constitutional rights, dancing in the aisles and high rolling with good friends. For what is one of our last weekends in the City of Angels, we certainly feel like we’ve managed to cram a whole lot of living into a condensed period of time. Senses reeling, heads hurting, wallets lighter, we retreat back to our base in Hollywood and reflect upon our epic journey… But it ain’t over just yet!!

Episode 23 - R.I.P. MJ

Episode 23 – R.I.P. MJ

Los Angeles, or more specifically Hollywood in reality is a biosphere of its own… This GFC malarkey with all its unpleasant home repossession nonsense, rising joblessness, crashing markets and so on, it’s just so not LA – well Hollywood to be precise. Look to the countless mansions gazing over the city from the Hills, the ever watchful gaze of the Hollywood sign teasing with dreams of stardom, the massive black SUV’s speeding importantly to a studio somewhere, and you know that the entertainment industry and it’s various incarnations will keep this city afloat… Even the homeless men and destitute war veterans are begging for change as the lights stop at the boundaries of 90210. The dream here is still alive!!

Although this week there is a palpable sense of death in the air with the demise of Farah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, and the littlest mega star, The King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Despite the immeasurable impact Farah Fawcett had on boys / men’s walls as America’s No.1 pin-up girl in the 70’s and her often imitated flick hairstyle by millions of women (and now more so, metrosexual men), her loss was forced to the back pages by the passing of MJ. The death of the most pilloried superstar united the world in grief. His unmistakable musical genius became the primary focus of coverage, a refreshing change from the usual drab reporting of his more recent dour ‘lifestyle choices’…

Continuing our morbid fascination with the numerous LA landmarks that saw the passing of many luminaries (i.e., Chateau Marmont, Manson Family murder scene, OJ’s most famous offensive play, etc), another journey to the beach is scuppered by that cursed ‘marine layer’ which rendered the sun absent and the breeze too cold for lazing, we salvage the mission by heading inland towards Encino to show our support / curiosity at the spectacle that was The Jackson Family Compound, complete with police guards, 50+ news crews and outside broadcast vans from every country around the globe. With reporters in the face of all in attendance, it proves that even after death, Michael Jackson will continue to be tabloid fodder for years to come – the circus is far from over!! R.I.P. lil’ man.

On a similar tangent, 7 weeks in LA have led me to a firm assessment of the LA ‘Rules of Engagement’, or how to make it in LA…. They seem alarmingly simple, but I staunchly believe that they are completely applicable on so many levels.

Step 1 - ‘Through whichever ostentatious means possible, be seen!’

Step 2 – ‘If socioeconomic or genetic factors prevent you from being seen, be heard!’

(Repeat)

If the above measures fail, move back to Iowa where you grew up, and drop the movie star aspirations…

These simple rules seem to be a mantra of the majority of LA denizens. Fashion, vehicles, lifestyle, your look, your voice… It’s paramount to the identity of LA and the people who make LA. So as they say, ‘when in Rome….’

As chameleons that fit so beautifully into whatever their surrounds, we venture out into LA to absorb some clubs. An unexpected foray into an epic drag night at The Standard on Sunset. I tell the doorgirl – ‘it’s alright honey, we’re from Sydney. We’ve seen this all before’, but the MC’ing, dancing 7ft chocolate brown pussycat still manages to raise our eyebrows. As per my own Rules of Engagement, we aren’t quite as camouflaged as we would expect so after a few cocktails we bust a move!

On a different tangent, a couple of trips to Villa Lounge courtesy of a promoter friend of Sam’s who hooks us up with free bottomless vodka served to our table, sees us hit the dance floor like a couple of local kids. Certainly makes for good times, and raging hangovers… Although not quite the epic standard of the film ‘The Hangover’ which we caught at ArcLight Cinemas. I am told by a mate at home, that he wants to head to Las Vegas soon for a Bucks Night – mine!!

The much hyped Grammy Museum is an interesting visit, especially in light of the focus they currently have on Michael Jackson’s career. I like Elvis’ and Kurt’s guitars, and also the live recording booths they have to mess around as a studio producer in. Drop the beat homeboy!! So it’s only fitting we follow that studio session with cocktails and canapés in a poolside vibrating waterbed on the 20^th floor atop The Standard Downtown and catch the afternoon’s rays. I could definitely get used to hanging here. It makes Sydney’s Ivy look like Castle Hill Tavern! I like this place.

We pack the car one weekend for a trip into the ranch and farm lands west of the OC, for a mate’s ‘Dirty 30 Ranch’ weekend on one of the top rodeo bull and stallion ranch. Either fortunately or unfortunately, we arrive a little later in the day when the team challenge games are degenerating, and the drinking games are accelerating. Not before getting involved with Steve’s winning birthday team. An 8-a-side tug of war becomes a case of every guy smashing each other into the mud pit, but that is fun to watch. A legendary float around the pool in the sun becomes night that becomes some semi-weird sexual tension in a cabin, so we make scarce to crash on our mattress under the Cali country night sky. A sublime starlit finish to an action-packed day on the farm!

Frosty and I amuse our selves on the arduous drive home with our own zany, whacky iPod Battles – we agree a central theme or genre, and have to alternately DJ a mix song by song – dang we know how to have a good time.

Speaking of which, imagine you’re in LA – The City of Lights – it’s Saturday night, you’ve cracked open some vintage bottles of wine (read $2.50), and you wanna party. Hit The Standard – check, Marmont – check, Sushi Club – check… How about we get crazy and rock some IQ quizzes on each other – not necessarily to determine who is smarter, but juz for kicks yeah? CA-RAZY!! Geography quizzes, IQ tests, you name it – we’re on it. And before we know it, the bars are closed, we’re buzzed – mentally and through intoxication – so that’s a wrap everybody! (insert last line of paragraph above)…D