Wherein Two Beccas bring you a panorama of Los Angeles in all her glory

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We love LA more than we love the bartender slipping an extra shot in our ten-buck cocktail. But we’re worried you might not love it as much as we do. So today, we’re abandoning the notion of convincing you with words (nobody reads anymore, anyway!) and ambushing you with pictures of the city that’s still surprising us.

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Wherein Two Beccas, on account of vigorous ‘sightseeing,’ are forced to substitute an IM convo for a legit column

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Wherein Two Beccas get inked, get stuffed, get show’d and, of course, get drunk

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You Gotta Git Up, Git Out and Git Somethin’


Atlanta’s Goodie Mob might’ve said it most famously, but ain’t nobody lived it as well as actors in LA. The second annual Hollywood Fringe Festival is so official, you should screw stalking Hollywood and Highland in order to gawk at D-list celebrities desperate to extend the shelf life of their expired (non)celebrity. The Fringe can be just as sleazy, anyway; and you can justify it ’cause theater’s high art. Even if you’ve been face down on a casting couch, everybody’s a little bit of a snob sometimes.

Brew, Do, Tattoo
Yeah, the freaks come out at night, but June gloom is lifting, and LA’s so lovely during the day. Get your coffee at Groundwork on Hollywood and Cauhenga, then walk up the block for some Hairroin. NO, crazy, not drugs, the very hip yet chill salon owned by Janine, one of the final contestants on that Bravo show about cutting hair. Or walk the other way, towards Fountain, for real needles and a hell of a souvenir: Kat Von D’s High Voltage Tattoo.

On a Roll
We’re not here to pimp reality television stars, really. In fact, make like you’ll never be in front of any kind of camera again and feed your face at All About the Bread, just a salami’s length from Fringe Central. Loaves baked fresh every 30 minutes, pastrami comes from the East Coast, and we’re officially done trying to convince you. Or, if your lazy bones 86’d the “morning” part of our PAINSTAKINGLY constructed itinerary, you can get French toast the size of your head all day at Grub. Shit is artisan, y’all.

Woolf at the (Stage) Door
Okay, Fatty, let’s go see some shows. Because schadenfreude courses through our veins like diesel through an 18-wheeler, our first stop is gonna be the ripped-as-hell Not Man Apart Physical Theatre Ensemble’s Rock in Her Pocket (Theatre Asylum, 5:30 pm). Young company members Alix Angelis and Vincent Cardinale have constructed a deep, dark comedy based on the life and work of Virginia Woolf — and they’ll be serving tea and cookies, just to remind us who’s fit and who’s not.

Now you’ve got two hours to kill till the next show we recommend, also at Theatre Asylum. To address that problem, we recommend drinking. Just sitting right there, and drinking. You packed a flask the second you made plans with us, right?
Scarf With Fringes
If we told you the next performance was a “one-woman show about growing up Muslim in America,” you might or might not be into it. But if we then tell you it’s called Headscarf and the Angry Bitch (Theatre Asylum, 8:30pm) and you still weren’t interested, we’re not interested in you. Zehra Fazal sounds like a down-ass chick, and Headscarf sold out the New York Fringe in 2010, not to mention won Fazal the “Best Solo Performer” award at the DC Fringe the same year. Boom.

 

Also in the “we haven’t seen it but we’d bet a lifetime of drinks/dates with Ryan Gosling that you’ll like it” category is 4 Clowns: Romeo & Juliet (Fringe Central, 8 pm). This troupe took home last year’s Hollywood Fringe “Best in Physical Theater” Award, and this time they’re so blockrockin’ they’re straight-up doing the most famous play any freshman flunky’s ever heard of. Even these dudes’ (plus one lady, woo woo!) graphic design screams quality.

Grilled Holes, Then Frolic
Fringe will feed you, too, with a bunch of food trucks. Hungry Nomad! (Flatbreads!) White Rabbit! (Filipino fusion!) We know that French toast is a distant memory, so Flatiron truck will hook it up with free grilled donut holes and creme fraiche. Fan-cee for ya fat azz.

It’s always the right time to drink in a Hollywood dive. What we love about LA bars: no windows, strong drinks, free snacks to sober you up before you drive home. One of our favorites is the Frolic Room. You could walk around the corner to Bardot, but why? You like velvet ropes guarding old It bars?

 

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