Putting the Ho in Hollywood

There’s nothing like a walk down Hollywood Boulevard at around midnight on a Friday night to make a girl feel old.

Things I just said:

There’s a club there now?
Did you see that dress?
That one was pretty much see-through!
Did you see how short that was?!
Did you see her shoes? (For once, not referencing the hundredth pair of hooker heels, but a super unique leopard print crazy-shaped heel.)
Should we save her? I mean, do you think she wants that guy to talk to her?

Hey ladies! All the ladies. Louder now. Help me out.

What are you wearing?!

I mean, I SEE what you’re wearing. Not that there’s much for me to see. And I’m just wondering…why?

It’s true…I can’t remember the last time I was in a club. And have I worn short dresses? Sure. Do I still? Sometimes. But, like with tights. Do some people look great in minis? Of course. But here’s the thing. I don’t know what you call something that’s shorter than a mini, but that’s what you guys are wearing. I’m pretty sure I have shirts longer than some of these dresses.

The combination of dresses up to there and 6 inch heels leave little to the imagination. Don’t get me started on the fact some of you then choose to skip out on the whole underwear thing.

Is covering both of your butt cheeks in their entirety (when in public) that much of an inconvenience? Then again, I’m the one sitting on my couch blogging, and you’re inevitably rubbing up against some guy doused in Axe wearing Ed Hardy looking for a good time.

I guarantee I’m more comfortable.

I save heels for specific outfits or special events (or when I want my legs to look hella awesome and toned). I occasionally lament I don’t wear them more often, as I realize I would then be more comfortable in them when I do. But then I thank the good Lord I’m tall enough to get away with wearing flats. I also find comfort in watching you precariously walk down the sidewalk knowing you’re just as uncomfortable in them. I wonder if you’ll risk walking down Hwood Blvd barefoot later or if someone will be carrying you home.

I understand you want attention, and I applaud your self confidence. I just want your skirts to be a teensy bit longer. And if it’s see-through…maybe a slip? Speaking of slips, watch those nips. And for the love…wear underwear. Any panties will do. I get it that you probably aren’t wearing any because they would show, but that should be when the alarm sounds alerting you to the fact that maybe your dress is too short. And you can still be fun and flirty. Even in panties. I recommend: Hanky Panky. Victoria’s Secret, H&M or Target also offer great varieties at affordable prices. I promise guys will still buy you drinks.

I’m not sure what the future holds for you ladies. Will you wake up one day and decide you’d rather stay at home wearing sweatpants and watching Teen Mom? Will you become a teen mom? Will you meet an “awesome” guy who – despite what you were wearing the night you guys met – will insist you “cover it up” or worse, a guy who parades you around like a Real Hootchie Mama of Hollywood? My hope is one day you magically grow out of it before anyone gets hurt…or herpes.

So I bet you’re wondering what I was doing in the heart of Hollywood on a Friday night if I despise it so much? Singing Christmas songs with Kermit and Miss Piggy…duh!

They gave us jingle bells at the door. Before the show started, I said “I just got really excited like a small child.” The woman in front of me turned around to look (the theater was full of adults) and so I was like, “Sorry.” And she smiled and said, “Don’t be sorry.” Then we were singing with Kermit and Miss Piggy.

And then they made it snow in the theater.

This was my third time at the El Capitan. I also saw Wall-E and Enchanted there. It never ceases to be a magical experience. Something about it just makes you feel like a kid again.

And then you walk outside.

The best was as I was driving home, I passed a concert venue. It was 12h30a and there was a long line outside waiting to get in to see a concert of a band I’ve never heard of. I briefly waffled between wondering when I got too old for things like that and being glad I wasn’t standing on the sidewalk. It was a relief to cross into my neighborhood and see my haunts and know that I’m much happier in jeans at a dive bar in the hood (or hanging out with friends on my patio) than in some unsa-unsa club.

Look who’s all growed up.

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