Last night we attended a party benefiting a charity giving toys to kids, through a couple of friends of colleagues of friends and so on. I thought as we drove up, further and further into the Hollywood Hills, “where oh where will we park?” Silly boy, of course, Valet of the Dolls were there to park our cars for us (and leave a card in the car that read “Mention having this card and receive a discount on valley services on your next private party.” Yes, you read right). Anyway, we sheepishly entered the house (check out this extensive page of photos for a look in and around) and met up with our connection to the event while trying not to fall into the massive swimming pool or break any of the very expensive looking eastern art all over the place. It was a very strange evening, and we felt totally out of place, but it was certainly an experience, and what a view… My favorite overheard conversation from the evening:

“Are you Italian?”
“No, I’m Iraqi.”
“Oh.”

We didn’t stay late, but stuck around to hear about the raffle prizes and who won, and then headed back down to reality and our cozy little apartment. On the way there, though, we ran into the tail end of this car chase-turned-foot chase, and took a detour to the grocery store to stock me up on food for my bachelor week next week as Aimee heads to Boston tomorrow.