What a party

I got back from the party last night at about 3:00am. The party was less then fun, to say the least.

Turns out the party wasn't a party, but a wake dinner. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me explain.

Sometimes when people die, a year after the person dies they have a 'memorial' dinner. Which basically consists of a bunch of people getting together drinking and having a dinner that's been sitting on the table for about an hour so it's ice cold. Yum.

I, of course, know NO ONE there and get introduced to the dead guys grandsons and we hit it off pretty well. They're not usually the kind of people I'd hang out with, but they're nice and the only ones there within three years of my age.

To make a super night even more spectacular, the hotel is a real snooty place in Santa Monica, therefore, security is super tight. No drinking at all. So the wondertwins inform me of this and suddenly the strange urge to commit suicide overcomes me and I have to sit down.

I know I said in my last post that I wasn't gonna drink, but it was so fuckin' boring that I had to do something. Well about a hour later we decide to leave and head to the Promenade. What a fucking joke. That place is so fucking elitist and status conscious that I just wanted to throw-up. I really fuckin' hate Los Angeles.

We leave at about midnight.

As we're leaving the guy whos brother had died given us two halfs of a giant chocolate chip cake. My mother and Nini's mother didn't want to keep. I wouldn't find out the reason until later.

So at about 1:00am we stop at a place called Cafe Mike in Castaic. Now I'm all for hating major corporations and taking down big business. But, there are somethings where big business strives at, and that's making un-healthy oil-based foods.

I eat what I know, and I know Denny's. I'd much rather eat at a dirty Denny's than a dirty truck stop called Cafe Mike. I walked in the place and felt like I had been transported to another dimension or something, it was just bizare.

The place was decorated like a typical truck stop restaruant. Weird metal signs from the 50's declaring that "There's nothing like a Coke" There's a couple in there who stay for 15 minutes, leave for 10 and come back. I assume they do this all night.

The 'staff' consisted of a 19-year old Arminian Elvis impersonator/waiter, a hispanic cook and a mysterious bus-boy who only stuck his head out from the kitchen door. The waiter was a hoot, he was threatning in a very non-threatning way. He would say we're real nice, but you couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not... very strange.

I've never in my entire life seen an American-Mexican truck stop. Yes, a truck stop that sells sandwiches and other American style food alongside Enchiladas and Tacos. By the way, the food was absolutely garbage. I took two bites of my Enchiladas and couldn't finish it.

So while we're eating we give the two chocolate cakes to the 'staff' at the truckstop and the weird ass couple and everyone else who happened to stop in. So I asked my mom why they didn't wanna keep the cakes and it turns out the guy who died was a murderer. Yup, a killer.

Apparently, the guy had an affair with a woman and he stoped seeing her. She threatened to expose him. So instead he takes her out on his boat, chops her up and throws her in the water.

I now believe with out a shadow of a doubt that my family is mentally insane.