honey balls

This past weekend started late for me. Obviously I'm still recovering since I'm just now trying to remember what the hell I did this past weekend. I caught the midnight screening of Jet Li's Unleashed at the Sunset 5 - it was part of the Los Angeles Asian American Film Festival, which ends Thursday. It was action-packed and the fight scenes didn't disappoint but there were huge holes in the script (penned by Luc Besson). Still worth it. I don't remember what I did after the movie, but I remember experiencing difficulty getting out of bed the next morning.

Saturday was a postcard-beautiful day and I needed a change of scenery. I needed to get out of downtown. My numerologist and I decided to spend some time in Orange County. We had lunch in Irvine with Mark Cunningham of Rarified Air, who is so David Cassidy-cute and smarter than a pair of white pony-skin Louboutin pumps. My numerologist's friend owns the restaurant and not only was the food yummy, but there was good juju all around. Even after eating damn near everything set in front of us, the hardcore Punjab businessmen sitting next to us convinced us to try their honey balls. Mmm, honey balls. I just like saying and writing it - honey balls.

After a leisurely afternoon lunching, dishing and critiquing my artwalk strategy (open bar=good), Mark went back to his studies (attempting a Ph.D. in Visual Communications is so time-consuming!) instead of accompanying me and my numerologist as we hit Pioneer Boulevard in Artesia to shop for saris and Bollywood DVDs.

Hmm, the rest of the weekend is a blur. I vaguely remember unloading a lot of wine from the back of a car. I hope I didn't do anything that's going to bite me in the ass later. Sunday was the downtown Cinco de Mayo street festival, Fiesta Broadway. I woke to loud music and remembered that I had to be somewhere by noon. It was 12:30.

Monday night I caught two shorts programs at the aforementioned film festival, Somewhere Only I Know and The Space Between. There were quite a few Tarnation wannabes in the first program, only none of the filmmakers were interesting enough for a documentary self-portrait. The first program was a yawn-fest, but the second one was so bad I wanted to bitch-slap most of the directors at the Q&A afterwards. They were already lined up, it would've been so convenient.

There was one short in the second program that wasn't too horrid - one guy's reaction to a bad breakup. It reminded me that I will see Bachelor #1 this weekend, which I am dreading. How do I tell him I don't want to see him again? And he's a little slow on the uptake, so I know I'll have to s-p-e-l-l it out. That's it, no more himbos. I also need return the Elvis impersonator's call. How do I tell him I don't want to see him again? I'm so bad at this. Dating sucks.