Skybar Vs. Dive Bar

My friends and I had the WORST EVER time trying to find parking anywhere near The Abbey on Saturday night.

The Abbey is the gay bar to be seen at in WeHo, but no parking meant no "seening" there that particular evening. This left us with the most obvious choice of secondary destination, that being the gleaming and teeming Sunset Strip. And Skybar.

First of all, since when did you have to be on a guestlist for Skybar on Saturday night? Has it been that long for me? No matter anyhow, as it took all of ten seconds to finagle our way without our very important names on "The List".

Once inside, it was a direct hightail to the bar upstairs. The crowd was pretentious, pretentious, pretentious as usual. Everyone looked like they were trying to be someone when they all really were no one. We laughed out loud at the skinny girl with the bad boob job who cut in front of us in the drink line because she ended up paying for a bunch of guys' drinks. And after all of them waved their credit cards to take care of the beverages, as real gentleman should do at a swanky dig. Looks like we (and those dudes) got the last laugh there, line cutter!

I'm Lovin' it: Cobb salads. If you want meat, veggies, and cheese all in one delicious platter, get yourself one from Home on Hillhurst in Los Feliz or from Damon & Pythias in Santa Monica. I'm hungry.

I'm Over it: Footless tights and flats with short, frayed hem mini jean skirts. I saw about fifty girls with the same outfit yesterday -- nearly wanted to hurl and put on a pair of stilettos. Fake rocker chicks.

Track of the Day: "Upside Down" by Jack Johnson. Yeah, he's written a couple songs for the new Curious George movie and that may strike you as a teensybit cheeseball, but he's still the hottest surfer/singer since Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys. And I am so kidding about Brian Wilson.