An Ode to The GasLite

So. Right after my 25th birthday two and a half short months ago, I proclaimed that I would not longer be frequenting a certain Santa Monica establishment. Said establishment coerced me into doing bad things, which included, but were not limited to: spilling drinks on myself, kissing random boys (not the one I was dating), singing karaoke without my knowledge, flirting with creepy older men so they would buy me drinks (which I certainly didn't need), dancing erratically, and hanging on people.

If you're thinking, "Wow, Natasha, good thing you can acknowledge your problem of making a complete ass of yourself. You are way past such sophomoric behavior," you are about to be disappointed.

Because, actually, since my declaration of abstinence, I have frequented that fabulous Santa Monica establishment three times. It just keeps getting better and better. Maybe this is because I have not been to many places in L.A. I have heard of amazing mystical places people enjoy--Miaygi's, Sky Bar, Social Hollywood, Hyde--but, seriously, these are way too cool for me.

Call me uncultured. Call me not really from L.A. Sorry, dudes, I prefer The GasLite.

My going-out preferences are much like my wine ones. Nothing fancy, just dark and cheap. At The GasLite, I can sing (scream) "Since You've Been Gone." On a stage. With mylar streamers behind me and real lights illuminating my super-stardom-ness. I can walk into the men's bathroom to watch a guy puke and tell him not to wave his Blackberry over the toilet, only for him to yell at me. I can buy a round of Patron shots from my friends and still afford my rent. I can tell the bartender to surprise me and she will--with something awesome. And, by God, I can make-out with random boys beneath hazy dark-reddish lighting. Eat your heart out Miyagi's. You've got nothin' on my GasLite.

Apparently, a woman having her birthday party there the other night thanked Julie for letting her group "take over" our bar. Since we were clearly GasLite regulars. I'm going to take that as a compliment, obviously.