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So with our newly acquired set of wheels and ready to take on the ol US and A, we had about a week to finally see some of LA, having spent the first 2 weeks looking for the car. Of course we drove up to the Hollywood sign for the classic photos, as well as cruise along the scenic Mulholland drive. We drove around Beverly Hills admiring the massive houses and up scale shops where the inhabitants undoubtedly get their attire. One day we hit the coastal suburbs, chilling on the beach in Malibu surrounded by all the lucrative beachfront property, before taking in a few rides at the awesome Santa Monica pier, the classic American beachfront pier with the typical old-fashioned seaside theme park attractions, and then strolling along the Venice Beach boardwalk which was so awesomely bizarre that we went back again the next day. There was all kinds of crazy s*** going on and an unbelievably diverse range of people, from a toddler with mad skills on the drums to a greasy gay guy in a glittery thong, some bodacious beach babes in just bikinis on roller skates and loads of hippies grooving to some music, not forgetting of course the beefcakes busting a gut in the outdoor gyms. They don't call it muscle beach for nothing. There was also a guy selling some Banksy's stuff, probably wasn't him though although I wouldn't put it past him.
We also went to the opening day of the LA Film Festival which was a surprisingly low-key affair so we got pretty close to the red-carpet where we saw a lot of wannabes. But we did see Christian Slater (who is very very short but I still think is a legend), Christina Ricci (who was sporting the most ridiculous side-boob ever) and Robert Downey Junior who waltzed in at the end like a badass and didn't even stop for photos. However, I was ultimately left disappointed because my biggest man-crush ever in Ryan Reynolds was supposed to show up and he bailed. Probably too busy f***ing Scarlette Johansson, I know I would be. We also decided to cruise over the Transformers 2 premiere, and this was not by any stretch of the imagination, low key. There was absolutely hoards of people there fighting for precious inches to get closer to the red carpet and glimpse a celeb. All the streets had to be closed off and there was about a million security guards swarming the place to keep the masses in check. There were life-size robot models and guys in transformers outfits prancing around entertaining the crowds, it was all very epic. Ben said he caught a glimpse of Shia Labeouf but I couldn't see him, and the only guy who came over to sign autographs was MichaelBay the director. That was nice of him to be fair but it was probably self-indulgent, I mean he's still a massive douchbag. Once again South Park hit the nail on the head when summing him up in that episode of Imagination Land when they ask his advice on something and all he can do is act out special effects. Anyway after a while and a lot of commotion, things started to die down as they began rolling up the red carpet in, and all the time we hadn't seen the top prize, Megan Fox. So a tad disappointed, we left to go and eat in the Westwood area where we were, where they have a lot of cinemas and therefore host a lot of premieres. So an hour or two later, we decided to cruise back to the theatre where the premiere had been just out of curiosity to see the aftermath, and on the way we came across people running and kicking up a fuss about something. So as you do, we trotted along as well to see what the commotion was about, and as I turned the corner, off in the distance there was a gleeming bright white figure lurking towards a limousine. 'No way' I thought 'is it?'. So I fast converted to an outright peg. Now writing this I realise how lame that sounds because I am genuinely not the starstruck type and do strongly believe that celebrities are not of some higher existence (except for Ryan Reynolds of course), but I guess I got caught up in the moment. Anyway, turns out, it was indeed Megan Fox! Gliding swiftly across the red-carpet in a dazzling white dress, briefly stopping to throw an elegant wave and a cheeky smile to the remaining screaming hardcore crowd-members, before ducking into the limousine, never to be that close to me and my penis ever again. So hey it was short and sweet but at least I saw her, and you know what, she's pretty fit. Hehe.
As I mentioned, Ben's uncle is a director who works for Universal Studios and one day he had us into the office to have a look around. It was pretty cool to see how the film industry works behind the scenes, I mean it all looked like just another typical office, except the plethora of scripts and awards and photos of actors scattered all over the place kind of gave it away. He also hooked us up with front of the line passes to the nearby UniversalStudiosTheme Park which was awesome. We hit all the classic rides like Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park, as well as the newly installed Simpsons ride, and of course, the famous Universal Studios Tour. Now at first the tour went around the main lot of sound stages and offices, where incidentally Ben and I had actually already driven around ourselves a few hours earlier (with our 'Guests of Universal' passes thank you very much) being nosy and looking for somewhere to park. So after feeling pretty smug about that, the tour then went onto the infamous Universal Studios backlot. It's basically where they build everything to shoot scenes in films and TV shows. There are entire artificial towns of houses and buildings that look unbelievably real, that are actually just empty structures. They have a replica of New York where they filmed the scenes from King Kong, as well as 'Little Europe' which is a few streets of windy generic European looking buildings that they can make up to look like anywhere in Europe they want. We also cruised around Wysteria lane for those Desperate Housewives fans, as well the spectacular plane crash set from War of the Worlds which was absolutely insane. There were many more sets from many more films, and although I don't like being packed into a can of sardines with other stupid and easily impressed American tourists, I have to say even I was very impressed. Of course afterwards, just in case we were feeling too much like standard tourists, Ben's uncle took us around parts of the backlot that weren't on the tour and we snuck into a sound stage to have a look at a typical indoor set as well as a green screen set up for special effects. So all in all in it was a fantastic day experiencing all the razmataz of the film industry and naturally we were very proud of our VIP treatment. What it really showed me is that films don't just magically happen and appear on the big screen as if by some god given right of entertainment. There's a lot of people doing a lot of unglamorous yet seemingly more important things behind it all that we tend to ignore when we relax and gaze at the moving images. They built a bloody replica of New York for f***s sake just for 20 minutes of a movie! And what if it's a flop??? Yes it really is a cut-throat business as they say. There's a lot of almosts and maybes, shallow handshakes, broken promises and 'shelved projects' in tinsletown, where reputation, that is the fuel of all work there, can rise and fall in an instant. So having it made doesn't necessarily mean you have it made. But hey who cares right? We just go and watch the movies.
So we cruised around and saw a few more bits and bobs, like the dark and bubbling La Brea tar pits (which for some reason I've always really wanted to see) and various other things I can't remember. Also, Jim lives pretty close to the Grove, which is this fancy pedestrianised shopping and entertainment complex where celebrities are said to frequent (although we didn't see any). But there's this amazing farmers market there which has all these stands selling loads of different food from all around the world. So we were in there a lot of the time reliving our South East Asian cuisine, except of course this time it wasn't a dollar a meal, ah the memories. One night we also went to a small cinema for a grindhouse night they were running. It was pretty weird, a lot of odd characters watching these low-budget 60s horror films, but it was an interesting experience and the films were enjoyable enough, more as comedies if anything because they were really really low budget. We also cruised around to various locations in the city where they filmed scenes from Magnolia (Ben's idea, he's obsessed with that film, I though it was average to poor, but he says that that's the whole point of the movie anyway, to divide people, whatever, load of tosh if you ask me), and we went to the liquor store from Superbad which was pretty jokes.
So ultimately it was an eventful 3 weeks in LA, and despite being pretty stressful at times looking for the car, we ended up doing absolutely loads and having a great time. I think Ben was pretty taken back by it all what with his career aspirations in the film industry, and to be fair it's an unbelievable city. Of course there's all the glitz and glamour which is very easy to get swept up in and not surprising that it's the hub of the rich and famous. But there's also the seedy underside which is never more than a stones throw away, with the renowned crime levels that luckily we never experienced and of course the dangerous areas of Inglewood and Compton that seem like a different planet from the nicer suburbs that are in reality just a few blocks away. It was an eclectic array experiences to say the least. We thought we'd top it all off with a big blow out at another big club in Hollywood called My House. When we got there it wasn't looking good as the douchbag at the door was only letting girls in and all the guys were waiting and looking on. I mean the guy was this skinny little indie w***er who would eye you up in a second as soon as you got there and then discard you just a quickly as if you were a piece of s***. And that really did my head in, I mean who the f*** was he to think he was somehow better than me and I wasn't worthy of being in there. I'd have liked to 'chat' to him one on one in a different setting and see how much better than me he was then. Anyway through clenched teeth and swallowing any sense of principle left in me, I gracefully asked the guy politely if he could let us in as it was our last night in LA and by some miracle he begrudgingly let us in. Now the place is called My House because it's set up like a house, with the bar set up like a kitchen and the main area set up like a lounge, with beds scattered around outside and upstairs. It was a pretty sweet venue, although again full of rich kids, and some of the birds in there were ridiculous, these scantily dressed blond bombshells who probably didn't have a brain cell to rub together between them but were mighty fine to look at. Of course they would never give filthy cheap backpackers like us the time of day but still, nice enough to look at. We actually got chatting to a couple of girls from England who had hired a table in there for 300 bucks and then had to make up the money with booze. But because there was only 2 of them they gave us quite a bit to help out, and we swiftly got absolutely steamed. Then low and behold, none other than Frank Lampard waltzed passed, looking decidedly orange, I think he had overdone the fake tan. So we stumbled over and lavished drunken praise upon him, and to be fair he was pretty battered himself, having spilt booze all over his shirt which was pretty funny. He said he was on holiday in LA so that he wouldn't be recognised, so probably didn't appreciate 2 drunk lads from England hassling him but he was nice enough and we got a photo with him which was cool. Of course that went straight up on facebook as our profile pictures. After that we knocked back a few more drinks to send us over that line where you start thinking about doing something stupid. Let's just say I got unexpected surprise the next day when I woke up, with some hazy memories of a tatoo parlour lurking in my head. Hehe I guess I'll have a reminder of that night forever. Anyway after that fiasco, when we had left the club, we decided to bite the bullet and go to a strip club. This was about 4 in the morning mind you and we were all over the place. Now we were pretty disappointed to find that the place on the sunset strip where we went didn't serve alcoholic drinks, looking to maintain our buzz, but we went in anyway. Now the only strip club i've ever been to was one in Bristol for a fiver with some really rough birds. Not here. They were stunning, and it seemed a bit farcical that women that beautiful were parading their nether-regions around for a bunch of dirty b******s (like us, but only at the time) and I felt a bit sleezy throwing dollar bills into this pit where they were strutting their stuff, but hey I was hammered at the time so enjoyed myself. Anyway the next day we were harshly punished for our frivolities the night before with some monstrous hangovers. Not the best start for our first drive of the road trip. So after briefly stopping off at Ben's uncle's place to take pictures with his oscar (that thing is heavier than you can imagine), we were off on the scenic coastal drive up highway 1, heading towards San Francisco, but ultimately not getting very far.....
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