So you’re shopping on Melrose and you only have, oh, let’s say, $5.96. (I’m just throwing a number out there.) You can either try and find something affordably vintage at Wasteland or buy a cup of deliciousness at Pinkberry instead! It’s only the greatest frozen treat you’ll ever taste in your life. Every reason I could think of why I’d never want to live in LA was forgotten once Pinkberry hit my lips. Why am I so butt-crazy about Pinkberry, you ask?
Paris Hilton eats at Pinkberry
- Being NONFAT and just twenty-five calories per ounce made me feel less guilty about those chicken and waffles I later ate at Roscoe’s. And the ham and cheese croissant I had for breakfast at Southcoast. And the chicken sandwich I had for lunch at Auntie Em’s. With avocado. And bacon. And Shi’s bacon because she doesn’t eat bacon (I don’t understand it, but I won’t judge her). And fine, the two cupcakes I also devoured from Auntie Em’s. Get off me.
- Awesome toppings like Cap’n Crunch, fresh fruit (mangoes!), MOCHI (Japanese rice cakes), Fruity Pebbles, chocolate chips…
- It’s the only place I know that offers green tea froyo.
- Pinkberry is tart like sherbet. There’s supposedly a lawsuit involving Pinkberry’s owner and the FDA because she won’t disclose what’s in it. I personally think it’s made of happiness and crack.
- Tigra from L’Trimm sings the Pinkberry jingle (Cars That Go Boom, anyone?).
I could go on and on about my love for Pinkberry, but instead I’ll tell you about my awesome weekend in LA. I had work till eleven o’clock at night all last week, and looking forward to this weekend was the only thing keeping me sane. I drove up after work on Friday and crashed at Pammie’s in the OC. Shi and Chel were fading in and out of sleep by the time I got there at one, but Channing Tatum kept me awake till four in the morning watching She’s the Man. Damn, he’s fly! The four of us hit up the H&M in Southcoast first and we ended up running into people we knew from SD. It’s weird when you see people you know from home in a completely different city. Especially people you aren’t very fond of. ANYWAY. We had lunch at Auntie Em’s Kitchen in Eagle Rock afterwards. Their cupcakes were featured on Bobby Flay’s Throwdown and Pammie’s been raving about them ever since. We didn’t get to try their famous red velvet cupcakes, because the biatch in front of us snagged the last two. Oh, well. She was really skinny and needed the cupcakes more than we did. They had really good food there otherwise, and we got to try the chocolate and carrot cake cupcakes (our favorite!).
Afterwards, we hit up Gallery 1998 on Melrose to check out Kurt Halsey’s exhibit. It was beautifully intimate! It closes tomorrow, so stop by if you’re near the area. We were browsing through the shops on Melrose when we saw this crazy line at the Pinkberry across the street. We decided to try it, and I’ve been a changed woman ever since. After my first bite, I was like Hmm. This is pretty good. Then I bit into some Cap’n Crunch and was like Oh my, this is ridiculous! When it was over (and it was over fast), I was like Did I really just eat this entire thing? I almost ate the cup. It was that good. Don’t take my word for it, though. Go get some and call me while you’re eating it. Because I love Pinkberry so much that the mere thought of listening to you eat Pinkberry excites me—Yes, it has been entirely too long since I’ve had a man in my life. Anyway, we continued shopping on Melrose and everyone found cute stuff except for me. I was thisclose to buying this gorgeous mustard bag from some random boutique, but thought that I really shouldn’t be spending $50 on a bag when I’m trying to save for me and Dy’s apartment. The only thing I bought that day were shoes from H&M with a curious semen-like stain on them. Ugh. Shi graciously treated us out to dinner at Roscoe’s House of Chicken & Waffles. We somehow rolled ourselves back to Pammie’s apartment close to midnight and Chel and Shi drove back home to SD.
On Sunday, Pammie and I slept in and ate a late lunch at Sonic Burger—Yet another food chain I wish they had in SD. I don’t know why they tease us with Sonic commercials on TV when they only have one location in the OC for everyone in southern California to eat at. There’s upwards of ten Sonic Burgers up north in Bakersfield. There is nothing to do in Bakersfield. I’m sure that all anyone does there is eat at one of the many Sonic Burgers they have to choose from. And that would be perfectly fine by me. We hit up the Beverly Center where we weathered the most annoying elevators I have ever been on and returned my only purchase from the day before. The aforementioned semen-like stain repelled the soap and water I used to try and lift the stain the night before. It was like that one time I was ten and spilled nacho cheese on my shirt while watching Three Ninjas at the movies. Fearing my mom would yell at me, I went to the bathroom and tried to wash the stain out, but the nacho cheese spread into this huge orange mess, so I turned my shirt inside out thinking no one would notice… even though the stain was equally visible on the inside of my shirt. At least H&M let me return the shoes. We ate a vegetarian dinner at M Café de Chaya with my cousin and her friend who both live in LA. It was the only healthy thing I ate all weekend. The best part, though, was that M Café was right next door to Pinkberry on Melrose. I had me some more Pinkberry goodness (with MOCHI topping this time… FYI: You have to ask for it because it’s not on the menu). By the time we had gotten back to our cars, both my cousin and I had received parking tickets for having our cars parked on the street after six. Where the fuck did it say that? I looked around and found a very confusing parking sign, and clearly, it wasn’t confusing to just me because every car parked on that street had a parking ticket. Apparently, these confusing parking signs are rampant in LA. Bah.
After dinner, we headed out to the Hollywood Bowl nearby to see John Mayer. It was our first time at that venue, so we weren’t sure where it was exactly. We just parked at the first paid parking lot we saw on Hollywood and Highland and ended up trekking almost a mile up to the show. I’m sure I burned the calories from at least that second Pinkberry I had that day. The Hollywood bowl was GIGANTIC and crowded and pretty awesome. We don’t even have a venue in SD that compares to this in size. Ben Folds was the opener and he was alright, but he didn’t sing The Luckiest which is pretty much the only song I know and like from him. John Mayer was really, really good. I’ve seen him one time before in SD and this show was so much better! This was an add-on show, and he had played the Bowl the night before, so he didn’t sing some of the songs we hoped he would (Comfortable, Stop This Train, In Repair), but he did sing some of my old favorites. He seems like a very grateful, charming guy who knows how to entertain. There are few things I dislike more than going to a show and being bored. Jack Johnson hardly uttered a word in between songs when we saw him last, but that didn’t stop Edgar from being the happiest person on earth! Ha, ha. Engaging the audience in between songs makes for a better show, in my opinion. John Mayer really delivered. By far, the highlight of my night was when he opened one of my favorite songs, 3×5, with Springsteen’s I’m On Fire:
I’m unbelievably starstruck, so it’s probably a good thing I don’t live in LA. Although San Diego does have its share of homegrown celebrities (Um, hi? AC Slater?). We ran into Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin on our way to our seats, and I just about died. Pammie was like, “Wait, who are they?” You’re probably thinking the same thing. I saw Joshua Radin a couple years back on the Hotel Cafe tour and Schuyler Fisk is his ladyfriend (also a singer/actress). It’s a good thing Paris Hilton’s in jail. My stomach would’ve fallen out of my butt if I ran into her at Pinkberry.
Before I dropped off Pammie in the OC after the show, we stopped by Diddy Riese in Westwood for cookies (as if I didn’t eat enough unhealthy food that weekend). As I drove home from LA, I sighed at each and every Pinkberry-less mile.