So we started the day off by hitting Hollywood & Highland. Quick backstory goes thus; she's got a bonus and wants to do something frivolous because she never does. Enter selfish bastard (re: your humble narrator) who says, "Welllllll...you can always take me out to eat." And so she goes for it. So she shows 'round 2:30, nearly 3 and we head out. I make a quick call to MovieFone to see what time & where The Salton Sea is playing; decide the 3 o'clock show is cutting it too close and I decide that, yes, I actually am hungry. We circle Hollywood/Orange/Selma/Sycamore and park on Selma. Fuck that paying for parking shit, even though a sign later said that you could get validated for like, 2 or 3 hours. Oh well. Anyway, so we hit it and I barely give the 2.5 cents tour. "Yep, this is where the Oscars were," "Yeah, they got these cool quote-things on the ground," "Lotta stuff's opened since the last time I was here," etc, etc. So we walk around a bit, make a quick restroom hit and decide on a restaurant. I really want to try out the Grill, but I figure it's also the first place I'm gonna hit when I return with my own cash, so we go for Vert, this swanky French-Italian Wolfgang fucking Puck joint that's a little too hip for its own good. We were the first customers of the day and the only ones for a good two hours or so, but at least we were appreciated. The bartender prides himself on the fact that he uses fresh juices in his drinks, where appropriate. He wasn't giving off the straight vibe at all, but the offhand remarks in his small-talk said otherwise. She had the chicken, I had the veal; this impressed her because we all know someone who won't eat veal because they're offended by the very concept and she took it as a sign that I knew her well enough to order it in her presence. I just thought it sounded good...and it was, though I should have gone with whatever the other option was instead of marsala. Thinking about it now, I may order veal in front a date just to test her; if the subject is offended, she's better be damned impressive in a bunch of other areas to prove she's worth more than a hard fuck.

Anyway, while I've little doubt that the bartending staff at Vert is more than competant, I've little interest in returning there to eat; I think Wolfgang Puck is a fucking deranged psychopath and shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen or anyone who works in one. In the future, Bice Mercato, The Highlands Restaurant, and Koji's Sushi & Shabu Shabu Restaurant are probably all must-tries as will be Monkees Seafood Restaurant, Trastevere, and Café Med when they open. The Loggia can go fuck itself; I dont want Wolfgang Puck's influence anywhere near Asian cuisine.

So after lunch, we hit the ArcLight, which is what they've turned the Cinerama Dome into. It's the closest theatre playing The Salton Sea (alternatives included 3rd & Fairfax, 3rd Street, Century City and Oxnard; WTF? No Laemmle's??), which I'd been hearing some good buzz about. The verdict? Fucking kickass. I loved this film within the first ten minutes. See it, see it, see it.

Afterwards, I figured we could kill some time at Amoeba, this funky music joint right across the street that apparently has become all the rage lately. I was only half-assed kind of looking around in the used section, but I really wasn't finding a damn thing until I got to the soundtracks. I grabbed the Desperado Soundtrack, which is one of my all-time favourites. Fun movie, fucking kickass music, and, of course, dialogue clips. I owned it once, but it vanished somewhere, I don't know how. I also grabbed the first Forever Knight soundtrack, which I'd been eyeing over at Rockaway a while back. Gonna need a bigger blank CD if I'm going to burn it for Rowan, though; it's over 76 minutes long. Also need to go grab the second one before some shitheel goes off and buys the fuckin' thing...

Anyway...what else did I do with my day? Eh. A little of this and that, here and there, but nothing really worth putting down here. Suffice to say I had myself a good time, which is more than I can say on most days.