Whenever my friend J comes to town, I somehow end up at places I could never possibly have imagined ending up at. Example No. 1 - Santa Monica after sunset. (Uchhh--I shudder.) Example No. 2 - gay bars in Weho at last call.
Last night's cavorting across town ended up with us at Fubar. Never been to Fubar? Take another look at the picture above. Now imagine the fellow with a sheen of sweat upon his torso and his shorts a lot lower down the totem pole, so to speak. To illustrate the absolute funk of the place, let me share with you this true story. At one point, between gawking at hard penises and the gays who love them, and dancing to pop music like the fag hags we must have appeared to be, I spotted a quarter on the floor. I didn't give that 25 cents a second thought. I left it on the floor. I know that doesn't sound impressive. But I'm an underpaid 20-something. I pick up quarters. Heck, I pick up pennies. But not there. Not at Fubar. You don't pick up anything at Fubar unless you're looking for some up close and personal exposure to human secretions.
Not gonna lie though. I'd go back. Despite the watered down drinks and wall to wall smell of sex, there was better people watching there than we'd found earlier at Hollywood's latest gathering spot for all things tacky, Guys and Dolls.
I'll leave you with this--one of my first hard-hitting interviews shot on the new Flip camera. I ask J the questions that really matter. Are ghosts real? Has your Hollywood dream come true? All this plus a shot of newlyweds John and Jane Doe as they exit the Loews Santa Hotel...
[Image Credit - Shadowscene via Fubar]