Who the f*ck is Selma Blair?

Los Angeles. Ah, Yes, the land of the beautiful. Where the actors flock like the salmon of Capistrano. Where everyone is an actor, and waiting tables on the side. Beautiful Los Angeles.

On Saturday, I rode the train to LA for a family event. I arrived a little late which should have worked out because my brother should have been waiting for me. He wasn't. I called and texted and nothing. Finally, I received a "omw". This is after being lectured by a homeless man at the station that O.J. Simpson is/was guilty (no shit). So why was the brother late? Out drinking until 930am from the night before. This is going to be a fun day.

We made our way through two parties, one complete with a full mexican catered buffet and two kegs of expensive beer before heading to meet with my cousin Jarrett. Many of you know of him or have met him, and realize that he is a legend. Every time we party it becomes the most ridiculous night of my life.

By the time we made it to Tim's house (Jarrett's college friend) it was nearly 5pm. It's going to be a good night. Why? Everyone inside was trashed and had been playing Wii all day. The plan was to drink until about 9 at which point we would head to Echo Park (sp?) for some party. Around 8 someone decided the Speak Easy was a good idea, so we went to the sweetest dive bar in America. Imagine 5 old men sitting at a poorly lit bar drinking a couple of Buds and enjoying the time away from their wives. (I'm never getting married.) After an hour of slamming the cheapest Miller Lites since becoming of age, we caught our cab to Echo Park.

Tim, possibly the funniest man I've ever met, fanagled with a cab driver into a flat rate $60 for our ride into town. We found the place after a couple 3 point turns and a frustrated, pissed off cabbie. So what was going on at 1926 Preston? Absolutely nothing. The house was empty, and anyone walking down the street could have heard a mouse fart. Great. Just when we were about to give up, a girl and guy walked straight toward us and asked if we were going to the party. Bingo. I don't remember the name of the girl's house we were at, but both her and her boyfriend were aspiring actors who had been in a commercial or two. We were the first to show up and it was obvious she didn't expect all of us. We moved straight to the deck and hid from the awkwardness. After about 15 minutes everyone was talking about the couple we walked in with. Apparently, the girl was Selma Blair. Who the hell is that? Some chick from Cruel Intentions.

Anyway, back to the drinking...
The only time I went inside was to get beer. Between the three of us, and the other 4 we came with, the two cases of bud light in the fridge were gone in no time. Some more people showed up and put two six packs of Amber Bock in the fridge. That too. After about an hour the party picked up, yet the conversation stayed the same "What are you in?" "How's the movie you're working on?" Blah blah blah. Apparently there were some other well-knowns in our presence but it didn't matter. We were trashed. Tim found amusement in going around giving everyone a shove just to see what their response would be. I started telling everyone that Jarrett was more famous than them, because he was the boy model on a bunch of board games I own (seriously, HAHA). And my brother? He saddled up next to Selma and tried pumping her for information. Turned out she was dating the aspiring actor she walked in with. OUT OF BEER - TIME TO LEAVE.

Tim somehow convinced the pissed off cabbie to come back and pick us up. The ride home was uneventful other than brother passing out and slamming his head against the glass. Back to bowling -- first bowl -- launched the controller at the 50in LCD and near repeated that hilarious commercial. Room fell immediately silent and I took on some stares. Brother, Jarrett and I chugged from a bottle of vodka which bore the name "Vodka" and the lights went out. Blacked out.

Los Angeles. Unless you're an aspiring actor, you don't belong.