And they all staffed (All images by or via Matthew Rettenmund)
I went to L.A. this weekend to meet with my Web series partners (news on that coming in the near future) and to attend the 30th anniversary of my friends Michael & Scott.
On the flight out, I was reading a first edition of The Jack Wrangler Story, or What's a Nice Boy Like You Doing? (St. Martin's Press, 1984), the cheeky autobiography of gay-porn star Jack Wrangler. It turned out to be a fortuitous choice, as early in the book, there is a lengthy description of a childhood birthday party of his in Beverly Hills, a stone's throw from the home where my 2017 party was happening. (It's a great, breezy, candid time capsule of a read if you can get your hands on it. Wrangler died in 2009 at 62, while his improbable partner Margaret Whiting died at 86 in 2011.)
The boys included their pooch in the celebration
The party was lovely — outdoors, peopled by sunny chatterboxes and littered with their fabulous art collection. One highlight was when a couple of my autograph-hound buddies very kindly pointed out that the mysterious Oscar-nominated neighbor Michael had teased me with was standing right next to us: None other than Nancy Olson of Sunset Boulevard (1950).
What was so shocking about meeting Nancy, who was lovely and very happy to briefly discuss her claim to fame, was that I had days earlier shown the movie to a 19-year-old friend in advance of our seeing the musical. To run into her unexpectedly within the same week was uncanny.
Me with Nancy Olson — no vodka in her drink, BTW
Nancy is 88 and looks spectacular. She warned that she is an old lady before we took our picture (I reassured her by saying I was, too) and said she thinks movies today that play well on the small screen have a leg up at Oscar time since nobody makes the effort to see screenings in theaters. It was a thrill and a half, to be sure.
I'm dying to shoot the guy in the middle!
Also thrilling were the drop-dead beautiful men serving as waiters. Turns out they came from Runway Waiters, which is why they all looked like models.
The rest of my trip was pretty low-key, but I managed a quick bite (of food) at the Abbey, where I snapped the establishment's #RESIST sign:
I could probably live in L.A. ...!