i'm so tragically unhip it's cool, right? right?

I had this great plan. I was going to go to the Echo Park Film Center to see a political film. Not that the film really interested me all that much, but I thought this would be a great way to meet men. Yes, constantly on the prowl.

The film was to start at 8, so I hopped in the car and followed the directions provided by Google Maps that I committed to memory. But I had no idea where the place could be, so I gave them a rang and found out the damn thing sent me the wrong direction. And if I had remembered anyway, I knew where the place was on Alvarado next to The Downbeat Cafe, which I've been told is very cool. So I'm zooming to get there, then drive around a bit to get parking, but it ultimately wasn't too hard. I run over there, only to see that the people waiting for the film (listening to a poet) are women and middle-aged men. Damn. So I politely leave at the end of a poem. I walk back to where I parked, in front of American Apparel, and go into the store to look around. I've wanted to go in for awhile, but I was also looking for a magazine they're supposed to sell (no luck). It's amazing how expensive plain cotton clothing is when it isn't made in a sweatshop. On the way out, I picked up some free magazines (really high quality paper) and thought I might find some interesting stuff to hang in my mobile (one has some paper dolls, that'll be fun!).

I decide that I'm going to see about hanging out somewhere cool. I walk east on Sunset, thinking maybe Sea Level Records might be worth a go. But the stretch of road is a little uncomfortable since everything is closed two blocks before it. And after two creepy men checked me out, I decided that might not be the best idea. So I head west and then up Alvarado, thinking I can hang out at The Downbeat. I get there and there's all this moving stuff in and out. I look in and it doesn't seem like it's a happening place. Then I notice a small handwritten note that says "Closed for production." Ah, yes. That could have been my chance to see a celebrity, but I heard some woman ask how long it was going to take to set up the craft service--so celebrities were long away.

What's a girl to do? I walk back to my car, noticing a sort of sexy weird guy watch me. I should have smiled. Always in hindsight. So I get in my car and go to Fosters Freeze. God, that is the worst cone on earth.