I don't do lines
Friday, May 2, 2008
I don't do lines. And btw, I'm not talking about grocery store lines or movie lines. I'm talking about get into a club for an acquaintance's birthday party line. Call me what you want - a snob, stuck up, a bitch (I call me smart)...but I don't do lines.
Tonight I went to STK for said acquaintance's birthday. Oh - and click on that link to be officially disgusted (when you get there, click on the STK link). I can save you a trip if you'd like. First you'll see a woman's calf so defined (by photoshop clearly) that you might want to puke. If that doesn't do it, your gag reflex will definitely kick in when you see the piece of raw meat hanging off a captain hook hand. Next up is the picture of bright red lips bighting into a chunk o' filet. This is supposed to be sexy by the way. Lastly is the lovely shot of the spike heel digging into the bright red bloody beef. V. I. L. E. And I like a good steak. But seriously? This is revolting.
Oh and also, did I mention I had dinner here on Tuesday night? And it was actually surprisingly good. After seeing the website I was highly skeptical but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. So when I was told to "swing by" said birthday party I figured why not? I had no idea that STK had an entirely different section that is a bona fide CLUB. Yes I'm TOTALLY out of the loop. Entirely.
I should have gotten the hint when the valet line was 10 cars long. But I just figured I was dealing with a bunch of lazy ass people and found myself some street parking. However, when I walked up, it was like I was at an entirely different restaurant than I'd been to on Tuesday night. That's because I was no longer at a restaurant. In true LA nightclub fashion, I found myself surrounded by women plastered in makeup, wearing heels too high for them to walk in, leaning on the arms of men pretending to be more important than they are. I bypassed this scene and headed into the restaurant, certain that there must be some sort of mistake. I pushed my way past paparazzi standing like vultures awaiting the possible prey that might come out of one of the aforementioned cars valeting.
In the safety of the restaurant, I called my friend to see where they were. I should have known I had it all wrong since my husband couldn't hear a word I was saying when I'd called him earlier. (Why wasn't I with him? I had a dinner party with some work colleagues earlier in the evening and agreed to meet him there after. Huge mistake. HUGE.) So I tried Amy, only to find that she couldn't hear me either. She said something about looking for me on the patio. And I turned around to come face to face with a patio resembling a sardine can. I knew I was not going to be a happy person, but still...I opted to give it a shot. I went up to the guy at the patio entrance and told him who's birthday I was there for.
"There's a guest list at the front door."
A GUEST LIST? FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???
I walked back out past the vultures and took one look at the slew of people lying in wait to get into a place where no one could hear each other talk and where moving from one side of the room to the other would take at least 20 minutes and decided to go home. I knew I could make my way to the front of the line and someone would come out and get me. That I wouldn't actually have to wait in that line if I didn't want to.
But to what end? So I could go see my friends but not hear a thing they were saying? (That is if I could even FIND them in the ridiculous crowds inside...) So I could get sandwiched between people hoping to get noticed or shoved between two drunk morons? So I could lose my voice attempting to say "excuse me"? So I could get to the bathroom and wait in line for 20 minutes to pee? So I could say I was at STK last night? So I could "see and be seen"? Ummmm...let me think about this for a moment. Can't think of anything I'd rather do less.
Lines=Clubs=so NOT fun. I don't do lines.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:24 AM
Labels: food and drink, LA rant, whilst drinking
A. Men.
And a bag of chips.
Ah, you happened upon Coco de Ville within the 1st MONTH of the lounge opening at STK.
I hate it when I don't realize things like that.
I'm going to STK next week for dinner for a friends b-day, can't wait!
BTW, isn't STK an import restaurant from NYC? No wonder you liked it...