Went to Book Soup on Sunset where I did my Dave Naz signing last year. Was excited to book shop with my friend E, but he always turns me onto new photographers whose books cost $100+ but, natch, I'll take a look and that will be etched in my memory a lifetime. Bought a comic version of Proust's Swann's Way (cue Sasha Grey fanbois) as well as Cruising LA: 5 Architectual Drives in Los Angeles.

E left, and as one to take advantage of already secured free prkg on the Sunset Strip, I walked to Red Rock and ordered myself a Ketel 1 on the rocks.

Some guy asked why I was at a bar drinking alone.
Um, cuz it's more degenerate to drink at home alone?
Note to dudes: reminding the girl she's alone...not a good sell to the ladies.

Anyway, my stripper friend, Monroe, was supposed to meet up but never showed. She named herself after Marilyn Monoe, bien sur, though I find Monroe from Too Close for Comfort more awesome. Later she called to apololgize due to getting side tracked en route because of a previous engagement...I trailed off mid-sentence and brushed it off. I have a sliding scale on my tolerance for people's bullshit. For instance, strippers=flakes by default, so don't put much stock in them anyway. Same category also included future work opportunities, but now I say 'FUCK THAT.' Case in point, dude last night who writes for a very famous fashion magazine. There comes a point where you can't compromise yourself just because you covet what someone else has. And why the fuck did it take me 15mins to get served when the bar was dead and I plainly had my money out?

Then I rushed my ass home to watch The Two Coreys.