Birthday Blast

There's seriously something wrong with me.

You see, I have this problem when it comes to screwing around with lead singers of my favorite bands. It's not that I'm always attracted to them. I think it has more to do with wanting them to be attracted to me. I guess I really am an attention whore after all. I've become a master at bringing the attention back to me and away from the stage. The way I see it what better way to do that then to make the lead singer stop and take notice right? It's even better if I can do it during their performance. I've had many a lead singer croon in my direction during a set. I get off on that shit...


I received dozens of phone calls the day of my birthday. Everyone was so sweet! I think I had around 25 Facebook messages. I was definitely feeling the love.  I guess I may have exaggerated my Los Angeles loneliness. My LA Fam Bam is much larger than I had realized.

Hippie Chick had read the blog I posted the night before so immediately set into action to make my birthday great. She is such an amazing person. The eternal optimist. Its all peace love and rockin good times with that girl.

One of Homeless Boyfriends favorite singers was playing at the Roxy. She invited me to join them for dinner at the Rainbow Room, followed by the concert afterwards. I was in!

I had a grueling day at work. 10 hours of birthday downers. I finally bailed out at 6pm. Traffic was a bitch! It took me almost an hour to get home. I called Hippie Chick the second I got home. She told me Homeless boyfriend was already at the Roxy filming some interviews for his Reality show pilot, and that she was headed home to change. The plan was to meet at the Rainbow Room for dinner by 7:30 pm.

That meant I only had 30 minutes to get ready! On my birthday? A statistical impossibility.... that I somehow made happen sucka!! Not only was I ready but I actually looked pretty damn cute if I do say so myself.

I'm the queen of discount shopping and had just picked up some random pieces a few days before. I wore a black and grey striped fitted tank dress ($15). It went down to my mid calf breakfast club style. I slipped on a pair of black suede ankle boots ($49) and threw my hair up into my trademark pony tail. I just needed a jacket. That's when I remembered the prostitute jacket my ex boyfriend, Nutty as a Fruitcake, had snatched for me while working one night. Not that he was a prostitute. He was just a body gaurd for them. Ok, I shouldn't say prostitute. They like to call themselves High end Escorts.

Whatever, a whores a whore and this particular whore had good taste. She had left the jacket behind in his car and instead of giving it back he had lifted it and gave it to me. Don't worry. I had it dry cleaned....twice.

Super cute, thin shiny oversized bomber jacket (free). Looks really similar to my Members Only Jacket. I threw on a couple of black cocktail rings ($10) and my $74 slammin birthday outfit was complete! (Priceless)

I met up with Hippie Chick at HB's apartment in West Hollywood and we cruised over to the Rainbow Room together. Our crew was sitting out on the patio when we arrived. I recognized a few faces. HC introduced two of the newbies as members of the Reality show crew. The third she hardly had to tell me. You can always tell when there's a rockstar at the table.

He was rockin that Beatles hippie hair from back in the sixties. Black blazer, fitted jeans and classic flat beetles ankle boots.  He had a thin smudge of black eye liner around his eyes that helped complete his, 'I'm not just a normal guy', look. Amusing. Oh, I almost forgot the best part. He was from England and had an amazing educated English accent. That kicked it up a notch. We'll just call this guy Ringo.

Dinner was fun. Everyone drank to my birthday and I received a quick bday phone call from The Kid. Eight more days until his arrival. I can't wait!

It was nearing time to go. We paid out the bill and popped on over to the Roxy. It was my first time there. The place is slammin! High ceilings, black walls, large stage with great lighting. We headed over to the bar for one more birthday shot to me.

"Check out Ringo on stage," Hippie Chick says in my ear.

Ringo had told us that he had a great outfit picked out for the night. That was an understatement. I looked over at the stage and saw the hazy red glow of the stage lights bouncing off of an oversized fur jacket. The coat almost completely swallowed him. He had traded his tight black jeans for tight white ones. He was still wearing his great boots. On top of his head was an oversized fedora. Rock on man, Rock on.

We headed for the stage. I loved his set. Great voice, great band. It was a total flash back man. So my vibe. Half way through his performance he ripped off the fur to reveal a sheer black embellished shirt. I'm not sure if his pants were extra low or if the shirt was extra short, either way he was rockin the exposed bellybutton look. I turned to see Street Artist, one of the hipster crew lifting his shirt up just a bit and securing it into a knot behind his back. Huh, look at that. Ringo started a male crop top craze.

Once he was done we screamed out our appreciations and headed back to the bar for some refills.
The Street Artist bumps up next to me and we start to chit chat. He's another super likable guy. He gives me the same vibe that Glasses does. I looked down at his hands and asked about the black paint between his nails.

"Spray paint," he responds."I'm an artist."

Very cool.

"Dude, give me cross streets, I will so go and check out your stuff."

One thing led to the other and I started talking about WCC with him. He's a trusted and I wanted to share.


"So let me ask you something," he says. "If you actually do meet someone you really like will you get into a relationship with them or will you just continue dating because of your blog?"

"There's no chance of me getting into a relationship," I tell him. "I had two choices, either not date at all or this. This is an outlet for me. My heart was broken. I have nothing to give someone right now. I'm numb. So I'm diving into my artistry."

"Oh, was it over Nutty as a Fruit Cake?" he asks.

I laugh. There is no part of me that misses that relationship. For one, besides Nutty being an escort body guard, he also is an underwear model/body builder/actor/trans dj/illegal underground cage fighter. And I'm about 99% sure he has split personality disorder. No Bullshit. I don't know where I find this guys. LA dating can be a son of a bitch. I'm totally over that breakup.

"No," I tell him." Someone else. It was bad. But I'm good."

"But if you did, would you?" he asks again.

"Yeah, I guess so. What you need to understand is that WCC isn't me. She's my inner monologue. She's the shit we all think about but would never say out loud or act upon. She's one dimensional. She's only a small part of who I am."

Satisfied with my response he nods his head and takes out his phone to jot down my blog sight.

Just then Ringo comes walking up to the bar to join us. He has changed back into his blazer, this time shirtless and wearing what appears to be an ascot. Ok, now I'm slightly attracted.


"Awesome," I tell him." ...changed my life man...changed my life."

He laughs and thanks me for the compliment. It doesn't escape my notice that he plants himself next to me at the bar.

The next act takes the stage. Its none other then Nikka Costa. She looks amazing! Platform heels, leather pants, and a one shoulder sequence top. One side is long sleeved with sequined fringes hanging down the arm.

"I totally want her shirt," Hippy Chick mumbles in awe. Gotta love Hippie Chicks style man. There's nothing she loves more than finding a one of a kind  bedazzled vintage piece of clothing. She once told me that her goal in life was to have a Golden Girls wardrobe.

A few of the guys in our crew call me over. "Hey Carrie, be a good wingman and ask those girls if they want to come over and dance with us."

I look around the corner and see 5 girls standing in the lobby. Just standing. What the hell, they look like they could use some fun. I walk over to one and ask her what she's doing. Shouldn't she be partying it up inside?

She looks down her nose at me and replies in a monotone voice, "We're waiting for our friend to get in."

Ok. Boring.

Ringo's girlfriend walks up to Boring girl. Hippie Chick had pointed her out to me earlier. Apparently she was a singer too. Ringo was trying to help her become something. The only problem was she apparently sucked ass.

Ringo joins us. I tell him, "I didn't know these guys were your friends. I was trying to be a good wingman and introduce them to the boys."

"Whats a wingman?" he asks me with his cute accent.

"A wingman is a friend who will help you meet people of the opposite sex that you are interested in. They will engage them in conversation for you or entertain their ugly friends while you get your groove on," I explain.

"I don't think I would like to be a wingman," he says. "It sounds like to much work."

I laugh and lean in to where is girlfriend is standing looking bored.

"I was just explaining what a wingman is to Ringo," I tell her.

She nods her head and looks away disinterested. Bitch. Now your on my badside.

HC pulls me back to the bar.


"So what did you think of his girlfriend?" she asks.

"Dude. Zero personality. Whats her deal?"

"She just thinks she's the shit. And so do her friends," she tells me.

I look down at my phone and notice a missed call from Glasses. He was supposed to meet up with us but we hadn't heard from him in a few hours. Hippie Chick and I head to the bathroom so that I can give him a call back. For some reason I decide to look down at my phone on the third ring only to realize I was calling the wrong person. My phone had just dialed Huge Asshole!

Oh god. No. What the hell did I do?!

I quickly hang up. Within seconds he calls me back. I haven't spoken to him in almost 2 months. There is not one ounce of me that wants to speak with him now. I let it go to voicemail.

He leaves a message, "Hey, I'm pretty sure you dialed me by accident. Well either way, Happy birthday."

Ugh. I hated hearing is voice. No matter how much I want to hate him, the love is unfortunately still there. God no. I can't do this. Not on my birthday dammit!

Then he text., "Accident?"

I don't respond. I don't trust myself. I tell Hippie Chick what I did. She gasps.

"Don't respond!" She says.

"I'm not. But now I know he won't leave me alone. He probably thinks I want to speak to him now," I say panicked. "Let's go back to the bar I need a drink."

One more shot later, and I'm feeling better. I hardly notice the next few texts from him...

"Guess so...Nothing?...No bday hug?"

The last text pisses me off. I'm happy your over the asshole things you did and said the last we spoke but I'm not. There will be no hugs dick.

Homeless Boyfriend and HC are sitting near the front door. I join them. We start to talk about Ringo's girl and her crew again.

"You know what, " I say, feeling particularly bold at the moment." Normally I would be respectful but she kind of pissed me off...I'm gonna go play..."

They laughed as I pranced away like the Grinch sneaking off to steal presents.

I found him at the bar right where I had left him. Nikka was still working it out on the stage so we all started to dance at the bar. Ringo is bumping me occasionally and makes sure that he stays close.

The night is starting to come to an end. We all head outside for our final goodbyes. Ringo is parked outfront so I ask if I can sit on his hood. He tells me to go ahead and than plops right down next to me. This is so in the bag.

The crowd from inside begins to spill out of the club. A few are stopping to share how amazing they thought Ringos performance was with him. He and I exchange giggles and shit talking about each of them. It's a good time. We are bonding over our mutual distaste for bullshiters. Remember the rules dear reader. Don't be a groupie. I mean, why be a groupie when you can be a bro?

Hugs begin to be distributed. Its time to go. I pass out my hugs in strategic order, ensuring that Ringo and I finish at the same time. Leaving the last embrace for us. My crew had already started walking away. They must not know me. Never turn your back while I'm alone with a Rocker man. I can't be trusted.

I walk over and he wraps his arms around me, pausing to give me an overly extended kiss on the cheek. We give each other a squeeze and I pull away about an arms length. Just enough to make sure my re entry is noticeable. I look him in the eye, and with a half smile I go back in for his lips. No, I didn't mack him down. Just a full mouthed kiss. I made it just long enough to make him want more. As soon as I pulled away I turned around and waved behind my back, "bye!".

Done. I've marked my territory. I've trained my homing pigeon. I've peed on his leg and he knows he belongs to me. I look forward to running into him again.

I drive home and give PartyBoy a call. It's late and he should be back from his trip. I had called him earlier that day, super impressed that he answered. Guess his girl was in the other room. Bold move. And it shows that he must like me because I sure as hell wouldn't have answered him.

He is stuck somewhere in Santa Monica with some friends. Boo. I get another text from Huge Asshole. Arg! I'm a little buzzed and alone and he keeps calling me. Why oh why didn't I just make out with Ringo? I swear never a man around when you need them.

To distract myself I turned on my computer and began to write. That helped. After half an hour of that I finally went to sleep.

All in all it was a pretty damn good birthday. And its only the beginning. Day 2 begins tomorrow. I think I've finally reached the age where I can have a birthday weekend. And I do....I'll tell you about it in the morning...oh wait it is morning. Another long party night on the Westside...

WCC