Chelsea was her typical gorgeous self.

We shuffled through the crowd to the patio. The dancers were lackluster, but if they were on heroin, I’ll apologize. The music was great, running through a mix of 90s grunge hits that made me nod my head and smile. Dennis was just happy to have a few drinks in him, and also to witness the rebirth of the first West Hollywood bar he went to.

Alistair, peach-colored shirt preppily collar-flipped, chatted up the gays, laying on the Scottish charm.

Johnny showed up and we made a quick stop at Steak Depot for a snack and to do a little iPhoning.

And Dennis wants to give up these spontaneous soirees for NYC?! All right, I don’t blame him. And I need a buddy in New York so I can visit more often.

The place is very 19th Century Gentlemen’s Club, lots of dark wood, antiques, and overdressed staff, who were a bit curt, a stark contrast to the cheery demeanor of the rest of the cast members. It does afford some unique views of New Orleans Square, though.

The meal was excellent, with modest portions. Except for the soup, which for some reason was served in a miniature mug, barely two spoonfuls’ worth. We should have stayed by the machine that dispensed it, draining cup after cup, like parched desert refugees.

I also should have ordered a soda so I could have been given a nifty glowing toy car, like some spoiled babies I could name. Looking at you, Derek.

Most of the desserts were merely okay except for the chocolate domes, which are made of win. Wow. Presentation is everything at 33, however, so it all looked fantastic.

Everybody was stuffed, and ready for rides at the Happiest Place on Earth! Everyone!

But I didn’t count on the newlyweds treating the theme park side of things casually. That’s what happens with annual passes when you go every other week. We went on Pirates of the Caribbean, during which Alex texted her way through the gloom, and after that, they were pretty much done. By the way, when did they put the obnoxious parrot back?

The sun had set, and I wanted to check out California Adventure before it got too late.

I’d been advised that only three rides were worth it: Soarin’ Over California, the Tower of Terror, and the rollercoaster. Soarin’ didn’t look promising for a quick run.

Dud. Fail. Nearly an hour wait, and although thrilling, the ride lasts four or five minutes. I was less than whelmed. We got lucky at the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, where a mom and her kids had to leave and gifted me with a FastPass ticket. The interiors were cool.

But although it was thrilling, this ride was even shorter, and if I’d waited the 55 minutes that was estimated for the line containing the unwashed masses, I’d have been ready to punch a faux bellboy.

We cut our losses and headed back to Disneyland for a couple of last-minute rides. The Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage was awful. I had hoped that the billions Disney rakes in every year would allow them to lavish appropriate levels of funding for updating their theme parks, but I enjoyed the chance to sit down better than anything outside my porthole. The best bit was the buoy floating near the entry line. The seagull animatronics atop it flick their heads back and forth and chant, “mine? mine?” every so often. Terrific.

I stood in line for a six dollar corn dog, bought a few presents for family, and we headed home, exhausted. I think I’ll just hang out and people-watch next time.

It was kind of a Scottish wedding. The groom, Todd, and his family cherish their Scottish heritage, and there were several of the party in formal kilts. Jason, above, middle, was the videographer. Mom came down just for the day, as she’s known Todd all the 26 years I have. There were four of us as BFFs, and we were inseparable. High School sucked except for my three best friends (and my bad boy buddy, Chris, with whom I regularly partied my ass off, but those are other stories for other times).

He took a long time to ask Melinda to marry him, and no one is sure why he changed his mind about marriage. But they’re terrific together, and I wish them the best of luck for continued happiness together.

I went with Dennis, who knew quite a few of the guests as Brown alums, and several others just from being Dennis.

One of the bartenders looked familiar. Some people just have a face I’m sure I’ve seen before, though they may just look like someone I know or someone famous. Sometimes, there’s just a universal familiarity to them, though, and I won’t be the only one to have the same sensation. Imran is nice, and I met a couple of interesting guests, but it wasn’t quite my crowd. I later said something about it to Dennis’s roommate, Phillip, who of course blabbed it immediately. Note to self: when you have a less-than-stellar time at a party your friend has graciously invited you to, and at which the drinks are free, keep your big mouth shut, especially to people who have no down-low filter, lest you be thought a giant asshole.

The view, though, was fantastic.

We also spent some time watching the Real-World-esque Jacuzzi scene evolving several floors below. I need a video camera with a zoom lens.

Saturday, however, I had a blast. Dennis and I headed out to Venice, to celebrate the pre-game party at his friend Bobby’s. There were more Browns, and lots of film industry folk to fill the ranks. As early arrivals, we sat around the living room, knocked back a few, and chatted.

Joe wanted to know all about voice acting, and I tried to impart some helpful advice, given my limited experience, while Conor ate dinner with his girlfriend.

I also talked with Emma (at left of the photo below) for some time, discussing law and film. Revelers kept arriving until the place was packed out.

Bobby changed his shirt 3 times, which I found out later was not unusual. Hey, if it’s your place, you have options. Lovely, lovely people all around, and I’m glad to have had the chance to meet them. Thanks, Dennis!

She graciously invited in her tenants, Jannatha and her lovely fiance, Kyle, to join us. My photo of Kyle went missing, but their two dogs came with them and took to Morgan immediately. That’s dog people for you.

It was a fine meal, and we thought we would head home soon after, but we had such a blast hanging out with the three of them that we stayed until almost 5:00, laughing, talking politics, and exchanging YouTube clips on Ann’s giant iMac.

We spent another ten minutes saying goodbye

… but before we did, Kyle gave me two bottles of his homebrewed pale ale. Yum. Kyle, you’re my BFF for that; I do love beer.

Dennis is still recovering from his ankle surgery, so the crowded clubs were out. We stopped at Java Detour for a laugh, since they had the neighborhood’s smallest bar. It’s really a coffee shop, but maybe they had a liquor license left over that would otherwise have gone to waste. We met up with his fellow ankle survivor, Betsy, who was rocking a pair of wicked cool Sam Adams earrings.

We moved to St. Felix’s to chat, and whiled away a couple of hours in pleasant conversation. I thought Dennis was moody at first, but I think he was just impatient with the amount of time it took for the iPhone app I was using to snap the photos (Darkroom). It works great in low light, but can take long seconds to set itself up. We laughed it up until after 11:00, and parted ways.

So who won?

Mom, you gave me life, which I appreciate, sure, but you also encourage and support me. You inspire and amaze me. You kept my spirits up during hard times, and you let me choose my own path in life, never demanding that I knuckle under to the status quo or to be anything other than my true self. Your steadfastness and creativity seem infinite, and you enjoy life more than anyone I know.

James, my brother, you show me the value of stability. Also diplomacy. I like to argue, and you sometimes drive me up the wall with your extreme measures to keep the peace, but we have more in common than we have differences. Grandad was right thirty years ago: despite an adversarial (sometimes mildly violent) relationship when we were little, we’ve become the best of friends as adults. Plus you like a lot of the same goofball humor I do, and having someone to laugh with over something no one else around finds funny is pretty great.

Family, you made it a priority to stick together, to appreciate differences, and to recognize that there is strength in diversity and in humility.

Friends, I love you and I need you. Friendship is what is most important to me in life, and I get attached and vulnerable. But the risk of being hurt sometimes is well worth it. You rock.

As for the rest? Music, books, the internets, urban centers, science, the British, Jon Stewart, office supplies, movies, guitars, iPhone, Matt Mahaffey, aircraft, comics, rain, sketch comedy, cooking, beer, animation, Duke Kahanamoku, California, beneficent bacteria, humanity.

I am glad I can have a few drinks with friends and not go overboard. To be able to share good times with good people makes life worth living. Still, it’s all about communication. If you have an open channel to the people closest to you, you can keep it all in balance. It’s not always easy to stay true to oneself and accommodate friends, family, and spouse. But I’m finding out, over the years, that experience counts for something. We get better at negotiating the treacherous paths of our relationships, and better at empathizing with others.

Balance, communication, and the occasional Happy Hour, components to a well-rounded life.

I’m trying not to be angry, really. Someone I care about asked for space while he went through a rough emotional patch. Great; I was happy to give him the room. I assumed he wanted to be left alone by everyone, but that’s not still the case. It’s five weeks later, and I found out he came into town before Halloween for a few days, stayed with a friend who took over his old apartment, and hung out in West Hollywood. He still hasn’t contacted me. This is someone I feel close to, who I’ve expended a lot of effort to keep in my life, and it feels like we’re out of balance, that I’m not getting back what I gave. I am hurt.

I keep thinking maybe I’m being bitchy, that he doesn’t owe it to me to check in with me, or give me heads up first among his friends. I want to overlook my own feelings, give him the benefit of the doubt, and leave him alone to come around in his own time. That’s what, intellectually, I want my attitude to be. It just isn’t.

I don’t know his motivations or reasons, since I’m not inside his head. If and when he wants to let me back into his life, I’ll be there, without reservation. But I can’t help being hurt now, wondering what value my friendship has. I let him in, far enough that being pushed aside irritates me, so maybe I need a little recovery time, too.

I like that feeling better. Not that I don’t love helping friends and family, but at the risk of flipping off the Buddha, desire can be fun, and time spent where I am wanted is joyous.