Summer’s here, and in LA that means that most people will go on a work hiatus, break up with their significant other, and attend fabulous pool parties at various houses in the Hills almost every day of the week. There’s nothing I love more than summer time pool parties — the sunny ride up the winding roads, the gorgeous esthetics and architecture of the houses, the fact that I actually have friends to hang out with instead of being the only one at the pool the rest of the year. Then there’s the inevitable debauchery that leads to the expectable drama. Sometimes entertaining…most of the time annoying, and last weekend was no exception.
Before I realized that the snowcones looked sexual…
Upon walking into my BFF’s house and the former residence of Neil Strauss, we were blocked from entering by a girl immediately shoving shots of straight vodka into our hands. Through my cringing eyes, I saw a pink cloud of cotton candy (my idea) appear in front of my face, and shoved it in my mouth like a fat kid at a carnival. I led my squad of eight into the bachelor pad house (makes sense why the author of “The Pick Up Artist” lived there) where we could immediately see the already happening pool party through the floor to ceiling glass sliding doors and windows before our attention was diverted to the hundred bottles of Haute Vodka that my friend had apparently recently invested in. Nothing good ever happens when there’s a surplus of vodka. Nothing.
Pool from my point of view…or a stalking photog
I finally made it to the bar after stopping to collect all of the circus themed snacks on the table and pointing out that I was in the majority of the Polaroids on the magnetic wall, and it was all down hill from there. There was the typical socializing, and drinking, and more drinking, and then the pushing of people in the pool and Super Soaker ambushes. There were three photographer kids there to capture it all which made me wonder…“why are there three photographers here?” Then I realized that the majority of the girls there thought the pool party doubled as a photoshoot.
Alcohol snowcones of death
Of course there’s always that girl at the pool party that is more than happy to take her top off or makeout with a girl if a camera is involved, and of course there were three of those girls at the party. While the guys were of course loving it, minus the ones that want any chance of ever talking to us in the future, the rest of us were kind of just like, “scream a little louder for attention”. To be fair they did think that the photographers were legit photographers (they weren’t), and that by taking “sexy pictures”….at a pool party…they were going to become famous models. High five.
Not wanting to be associated as someone actually wanting to be photographed, I accidentally snapped at one of the photographers and told him I thought it was gross that they were taking pictures of drunk topless chicks. “Oh, I figured you were one of the models in the magazine and you knew what type of party it was…and I don’t think they’re even drunk”. Through my vodka infused snow cone stupor it dawned on me that I wasn’t just at my good friend’s typical pool party, but the anniversary party for a racy online magazine he co-runs as well! It totally must have looked like I was one of those girls!!!
I bolted back to my group of classy betches and informed them of my discovery as I yanked my maxi skirt and crop top on to emphasize that clothes were going on, not off. I then proceeded to text the only person that I didn’t care if I acted like a drunken princess in front of…my ex, and told him I was dying and needed to be picked up immediately. He told me to uber home and he’d get me in an hour, but what I heard was “stay at the party and keep drinking vodka snow cones for an hour”.
By the time he got me I had an entire photo album of pictures of just my eyes with other people’s eyes who I thought were the same color, and about five wanna-be gangsta pictures with the security guard. None of them turned out good, and are all extremely embarrassing. What was more embarrassing was that after I escaped without saying bye to anyone, he took me to eat at a quiet little sushi place in the valley where my 5 year old behavior did not fit in at all amongst all the normal people. But nooooo someone insisted on not going to Hollyweird where I would have fit in just fine.
Annndd I’m drunk
After doing everything possible to embarrass myself and irritate him and getting no reaction besides, “omg you’re so drunk”, I finally got to him when I refused to go to his friend’s show…for the sake of both of our appearances. Instead I spent my Saturday night attempting to make drunk curry noodles and failing, and passing out at 10:30pm. Go me.
Alyssa is a self-made, full time travel blogger who loves adventure and typically travels the world solo. She's been to 53 countries and 6 continents so far, and believes she has mastered the art of chasing waterfalls, traveling solo, wine drinking, and making budget-traveling look good. Curious to know how she started this career? Check out the About section above!