Blazing at the House of Blues

Awoke in a haze today ... sirens and chirping birds for most of the night didn't contribute to a restful sleep. Or maybe I'm tired because I stayed up till 3 a.m. watching the homosexual scientologist himself, Tom Cruise, in Vanilla Sky. Sometimes I question my decision-making process.
Anyways, today's No. 1 task was a must-do on the list of what to do in L.A. ... shopping at the outlet mall! And not just any outlet mall, but the second-biggest outlet mall in California. AwwwwYeaah baby. I do it up RIGHT.
Me, my sis and her friend Bridget - the youngest-looking 46-year-old I've ever met, headed up to Camarillo (taking a scenic drive through scenic celebrity-filled Malibu) and spent five hours trekking around Hugo Boss, Sak's Fith Avenue, Kenneth Cole, Armani... and so on. Bridget just happens to be the wardrobe manager on Las Vegas (the TV show. Duh.), so she was a wealth of clothing knowledge. I think I'll look really good in my snakeskin pants.
After the five hours of shopping, we spent another two crawling through rush-hour traffic trying to get back to Anya's crizzle. I tried falling asleep, but my sister drives like Mario Andretti. A blind Mario Andretti. In fact, she actually backed OVER my foot today. I didn't need my feet anyways ...

We got back to the house, I scarfed down some Chinese fast-food, took a power nap, and dressed for the highlight of the day; DJ Quick at the House of Blues.
We got there around 9ish, walking into a cloud of Mary Jane while one of the warm-up acts were still on the stage. It was like 20 little 12-year-olds running around acting hardcore. Remember Steve Harvey's commentary on hip hop on Kings of Comedy? This was straight off the script. No talent, no star, no entertainment, really.
They were nearly done by the time we got there, so me, my Grey Goose and soda and my sis hit the pit in front of the stage. Plenty of elbow room, and we settled in to watch the show. Quick's compadre, Mitchy Slick, did it up for a half hour, and he wasn't bad. The usual short gangsta black dude with cornrows.
There were some special guests in the house: Talib Kwali, Carl Thomas, and X to the Z himself, Xzibit. The crowd went nuts with Mr. Pimp My Ride hit the stage. There must have been a hundred cellphones lit up in front of us, as everyone held them up to grab some video or pics. It was kind of the modern version of the lighters in the air.
Quick came out around 10, and went straight through until a little after midnight. Great live show, the old school was rockin the spot. Let me just say this: It doesn't matter if they live in the hood, white people in LA are just like ya'll in the rest of the world. RHYTHMLESS. I say that because they pulled a bunch of hoochies up on stage for a booty dance, and it was almost painful to watch some of they spasmodic gyrations. And once they realized people were laughing, they tried to get freaky instead, and started stripping. Again, laughter. And tears (from me). It was that embarassing.
There was one dude who was beside us the entire time. His girl had been super energetic at the start, dancing and ish, but crashed HARD about 1/4 through Quick's set. He couldn't move her off the floor, cause it was jammed like Gotcha's women's bathroom, with people shoulder to shoulder. So he had to hold her up, bascially unconcious, for the entire set. My feet were aching by the end, so I have no idea how he managed it.
Anyways, it was a good show. Glad I went. Though I'm missing Talib perform with The Roots on Sunday at the same place. Ahh, oh well.
Tomorrow is a chill day. Magic Mountain had been on the itinerary, but we decided to take a pass.

lata