Before you move your hand to stroke a key, a mouse, or the neck of whoever is reading this beside you listen to this track. Better yet download it. It's free bitch. Trizzy Turnt Up - A-Trak
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It's Jeremy O., L.A. transplant as of 1.21.11 and your guide to all things Mirth. Last night, my hollywood cherry was burst. At times the experience was jarring, too much too soon, at others it was pleasant, a smooth introduction to a brand new world. My first taste of Hollyweird's late night scene came in the form of the illustrious Standard Hotel on Sunset Boulevard, and what a sweet sweet taste it was, a piece of chocolate after Lent. We walked through the doors and were greeted by a woman in a glass case serenely reading a novel and wearing a thin sheer nighty. We took a left and time travelled to '76, it seemed, and walked through The Standard's 24/7 restaurant, The 24/7 Restaurant, and then sauntered into the party in The Purple Lounge. The crowd was just getting warmed up when we arrived tipsily grinding to the smooth sounds of DJ KillerCam, swirling into the neon red and purple lights. After Mirth and I moved through the crowd, taking photos, grinding with choice trim, and revving the smooth partiers up to rage status, it was time for Mirth to get in the booth and bring the night to a close by bringing out the House. The crowd instantly stepped their juke game way up, and for the last part of the night I was back in Chicago, jukin' and twerking till the lights came up and the tambourine was set down(did I fail to mention there was a tambourine?).
Jeremy O. signing off. I'll be back again next week, still giving you Angelenos the city through foreign eyes. Peace!