When the winter blahs hit what’s a girl to do?  Grab her two best friends, hop on a plane to LAX and spend the weekend obnoxiously exploring the city in a convertible, duh.

Day 1: The Arrival

We were all slightly delirious from a long plane ride and watching La La Land (worst movie ever, btw, how it got nominated and won awards is proof the Oscars are dumb af), and all needed showers and a BMW.  Unfortunately, the shower at the Air Bnb was being repaired, and the BMW was out for a joy ride.  My conversation with the Sixt car rental guy:

Me: hi I have a reservation for a BMW convertible.

Guy: uhhh…yea I see that but unfortunately we don’t have any right now.  We can offer you a Camaro…

Us [exchange dirty looks at the thought of a Camaro]:  uh, well what’s the point of making a reservation if you don’t reserve the cars?

Guy:  I’m not sure!  Ok I’m going to take my lunch, maybe one will come back otherwise think about the Camaro.

We sat in the parking lot bitching for about 30 minutes, then actually considered taking the Camaro as Anthony ate his pizza and probably shook his head in disgust at our snottiness.  Just as we were about to concede, a cool dad came riding in OUR BMW.  Luckily the only worker at Suxt with a brain, Darryl, helped us get California Crusin.

Obviously our first stop was In N Out BurgerWhen we got to the Air Bnb, a small Latino gay man named Pedro came out and told us the shower was still being repaired and we should take a walk until it was ready.  Sweaty, sober and still pissed off, we walked around Sunset and Santa Monica Blvd wondering if Pedro was cleaning up from the previous guests’ orgy, and asking strangers where the hell we could get beer. The location was ideal, right in the middle of West Hollywood, and we had our only celebrity sighting, Brittany from Vanderpump Rules, who started sprinting away as soon as we started whispering.

We finally got checked in and luckily had another shower because we were all disgusting.  

Since our flight landed so early, we had planned on exploring Venice and Santa Monica, but since it took about 8 hours to get the car and the apartment, we started the theme of being late.  Venice is so weird, and gets even weirder after dark.  We watched the sunset, and the workers of the boardwalk shops slam down their metal curtains like zombies were coming, which they were.

We headed over to Santa Monica (my favorite part of LA) and tried to get dinner, but of course everywhere was crazy busy.  We settled on a gastropub, West & 54th, where the waiter refused to give us straws because they’re a danger to the environment, but handed us 75 napkins.

We made our way home, freezing with the convertible top down, but refusing to put it up because it was such a trial to get it.  Aimee and I reverted to our usual Lifetime movie before bed, about a weird neighbor who stole dead people’s cuckoo clocks and then resold them.

Day 2: I Get to See My Lesbian Best Friend/ Realizing We Will Always Be Late

My best friend from college moved out to California last year with her girlfriend, so hanging with them was #1 priority.  Even though they live just a little outside of LA, they had a two hour drive to get to us.  When they arrived, we ogled at the amount of medical marijuana they are allowed to buy, and came to the conclusion that California wants to keep their residents calm and medicated so they don’t notice the smog and traffic.

We hopped in the car and headed to Runyon Canyon to get some views and hike a steep trail.

Then we headed the to Griffith Observatory to get some more views and hike another steep trail.

 

Jordan told us that the California flag was supposed to be a pear, but there was a typo so it turned into a bear.  Upon some research, we discovered this was not true.

Went back to the apartment and my other friend from college, Carrie, came over.  In college, Jordan and I used to torture Carrie on April Fools Day (which it happened to be), so she was hesitant to come over.  We always took the opportunity to silly string her, or TP her car, so why she’s still friends with us, I don’t know.  She recommended a conveyor sushi spot that was of course closing when we got there.  We were of course obnoxious.

We tried to go to a fun sounding bar called Good Times at Davey Wayne’s, but the line was like three miles long.  Instead we headed to the seedy part of LA to Jumbos Clown Room.  All day we had been nervously discussing the weird clown strippers we might encounter, but it was just a normal strip club, no clowns at all.  I’m not sure if we were relieved or disappointed.

 

We went to an Indie Dance Yourself Clean party, which was awesome, and we met some random dudes from Portland who gave Jordan advice for her next move.

Afterwards, we were ambitious enough to think we would drink more, so we headed to a 7/11 to get beer and talk with some of LAs finest.  They were probably like omg get the fuck away.

Went home and finished the Lifetime Movie. 

Day 3: Fuck It, Let’s Go to Malibu

All of the shops on Melrose didn’t open until 12, so I made Jordan walk to Beverly Hills with me so I could take these pictures.

Jordan left (tears) and we donned our head scarves for the drive to Malibu.

It was fucking freezing, but we braved the top down until we realized we could roll the windows up and blast the heat.  Had brunch at Vee’s of Malibu where the robot waitress acted like Aimee and I were the first people in the history of Malibu (except Barbie) to wear pink.

Because we didn’t have enough food, we stopped and picked up an obscene amount of pastries at the Malibu Kitchen.

Peeled out of the lot and drove to El Matador State Beach which was gorgeous and full of tourists like us.

We asked someone to take our picture in the convertible, and then they jumped in and started taking pictures of us taking pictures.

We stopped at the Santa Monica pier to ride the Ferris Wheel and buy a blanket.  As soon as we got on the wheel, we all realized we hate heights and started crying.  This is the only photo where we are not.

Rushed home to get ready for our dinner reservation at Lisa Vanderpump’s restaurant, Pump.  Side note: this was the only reservation we made.  Our Open Table scores suck after this trip.  We were hoping to see the cast of Vanderpump Rules, but only encountered a friendly possibly gay waiter.

Fed up with lines and waits, we retreated home to complain about everything.

It was an amazing trip, but just realize if you go to LA you should plan on getting everywhere 3 hours late, and get a medical marijuana card to deal with it all.