summer friday night silverlake

couldn't figure where to go for dinner, too hungry, tried Palermo's, but the wait was long and the food looked mediocre, so we walked down to Figaro's, which is french for really fucking expensive, but we like good food and an even better ambience, so we had a 17 dollar seafood stuffed artichoke, then a shared a 32 rib-eye with "frittes" which is just french fancy for fries. Accompanying dinner was 38 dollars worth of 3 martini's, so needless to say, we ended up charging it. But he did say I looked pretty in the candle light...then off to 4100 where our drunk friends were causing a ridiculous ruccous, so we drank on stacey's old bosses tab, and the bartender asked me if I needed to catch up, which I did, but I was planning on avoiding it..so stacey gets cut off, then disappears to puke, and i want to go, so then she tells me bob is coming, but i don't feel like hanging out with him, so mark, who is pretty drunk himself, agrees to go home, so we drove and they played the Killers and I sang "i'm so much older than I can take," then they played Mudhoney, and now he is trying to paint on some cardboard with the paint we were suppose to use for the house, and I am annoyed because he's already spilt paint on many other occasions on our floors and others, " you don't trust me?" he says. "no." i say, " would you?" and he puts his head down, but continues to mix the paint, red with off-white, turned with our wooden kitchen spoon.