Wednesday, July 21, 2010

It's Called Magic, Bitch. Tricks Are For Whores.

It was a trifecta of friends' birthdays this week and the result was a fabulous trip to the Magic Castle in Hollywood. For all of you who have never been, it's invite only to a 100 year old, multi-level mansion where you pay out the ass to be shown magic. The dress code is strict, the parking is valet, and the magicians are not fucking around.

Before the evening begins, our Jersey homeboy, Gasper, strolls up to us (and a crowd of old people) and loudly announces how "Some fuckin' guy just yelled at me 'Shorten your tie, douchebag!' and then I grabbed my balls at him!" Douche bags and balls are always needed to begin a night of class.

We get herded into a lobby and pay two stuffy bitches to scream at us that we're not good or rich enough to be at a place of this caliber. Someone screeches into a bookcase "Open Sesame!" and we enter a world of creepy portraits, rickety staircases, and fully stocked bars (yes!) where we immediately order drinks.

There are small 10 minute magic shows in every nook and cranny of every eccentric room. We catch one of an older Australian gentleman who refuses to perform any trick without involving a kangaroo, but his accent is so entertaining that we stay anyway. Quickly after, we hurry upstairs where our dinner reservations await... and more drinks.

Next up, the main attraction. Justin Credible, host of Cupcake Wars, puts on a delightful show including a ring popping up in a lady's cleavage, a floating table, and a box that I suspect a fully literate midget may live inside. Then, he calls on Gasper. Justin proceeds to call him Casper, Jasper, Gasper, and then Jasper again for the next four minutes. I'm pretty sure those two hooked up after the show because they had quite a flirtation going on and Justin swore this mishap would be his FB status update. Oh, and I totally saw them making out later.

What next? More drinks! And more nook and cranny shows. We stumble upon an old school magician who's throwing back Jack and Cokes like it's Kwanzaa and telling jokes that intermix racial slurs with anecdotes about Frank Sinatra. Never have I heard such a creative use of the word "wetback." Classic.

I'm on my 100th glass of syrah when I'm yanked down into a possible sex dungeon where two ametuer magicians are doing quick sets. I try to hook up Devon with the first guy, but he leaves the room annoyed. (I thought I was being subtle.)  The second magician notices my horrifically purple mouth and thinks it's a good idea to have me help with his set. After a few slurred suggestions at what card he should pull, I decide the eight of spades would be great. He pulls the eight of hearts. Unfortunately for him, the best magic trick in that room was me making yet another glass of wine disappear.

The night ends with everyone sitting in the basement, listening to another magician talk about doing cocaine in his hay day at Studio 54. I sway to the melodic tunes from a Tina Turner look-alike on the piano and realize that my body is ready for Jack in the Box. Before parting ways, we reminisce over all the times we screamed things like "What?! That's impossible!" and "Where did his pants go?" A lovely evening indeed.

We couldn't truly end the night without a quick encounter with a wizard dog and a run in with some rent-a-cops on the 405, but everyone made it home safe, sound and full of magic (alcohol). Happy birthday to my beloved Freaky, the gorgeous Lori, and my BFF/Boyfriend Jeff!

1 comment:

  1. Jeff does not get BFF status, mkay? It's bad enough he gets to bang you and I don't, does he really need to steal my title too? I let him take the boyfriend title from me but I draw the line at Bestie. Happy birthday Jeff!!