Earlier tonight, I had dinner at Mardi Gras in Toluca Lake, which has good food and live music, but some seriously tacky decor. The poster above our table made me want to get a pet just so I can dress it in a giant ruffled collar and take it to New Orleans to party.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my friend ran into a former coworker outside the bar next door. He told us how two minutes earlier, David Carradine left the bar, kinda drunk after doing shots of Jagermeister, and had trouble starting his car. Then, as he pulled away, he almost hit someone. Meanwhile, I was at the ATM a block down, and by the time I showed up, there were no drunken celebs to be found. I felt like a blogging failure. (If David Carradine doing something dumb in a car sounds familiar, you are probably thinking of Sean’s post from a few weeks ago.)