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To serve as some sort of distraction from the various ups and downs of my love life, my beautiful best friend has taken it upon herself to thrust me head-first into a new hobby: maid of honor. While I am honored and appreciate said distraction, going from 0-M.V.P. in 6.3 seconds flat has me feeling slightly lost, and GPS is in no position to navigate me through the storm ahead. Aside from the various fun duties a.k.a., party planning, I get to bide my time with the teeny tiny matter of the dreaded bridesmaids’ dresses. I’m not entirely sure who initially thought that proper wed-iquette dictates that thou shalt dress in Pepto-Bismol-style pastels while skipping down the aisle, but thanks for that. People may confuse me with an Easter peep, but rest assured that pretty pink abomination is yours truly. Saving grace exists in the form of four other girls I get to share this time honored tradition with, so at least I’m not alone. And when I inflict this traditional torture on my fair friends in the future, it will be in black, because once you go black, you never go back.

There’s that feeling. You know the one. The one where you meet a great guy, you start to like him, and then he tells you he’s moving to South Africa for several months. Oh you don’t? That’s because this type of phenomenon, known as The Great Disappearing Act, often flies under the radar, although it has been happening more and more often. . Apparently, guys are now so afraid of commitment (and to be fair, who the hell said it was going anywhere in the first place?) they are crossing oceans to avoid “the talk.” In addition to cross-country escapes, guys have also found the following excuses (according to my incredibly reliable sources) successful to parlay the one-on-one party into a more menage-a-trois friendly circumstance: serious illness, deportation, thinking with the wrong head, and a form of claustrophobia so rare, it only affects its victims when they’re forced into monogamy. Scientists are currently looking for a suitable vaccine for said situation, but are strangely preoccupied with the swine flu. Someone should seriously tell them to get their priorities straight.

Sometimes people have a hard time letting go, especially if said severance involves a bad break-up, and even more so if this break up was with a now former friend. Let’s face it, no one wants to sweat the small stuff, so when presented with the opportunity to agree to disagree and enjoy (what was thought to be) a mutual parting of the ways, you jump on it – hoping to end things on at least a somewhat civil note. Clearly, this never works though, because why would any frienemy want to make life a teeny bit easier? So because they happen to get off on arguing (it’s no surprise you often find these fiends in law school) they jump at any opportunity to rehash arguments of the past hoping to annoy the hell out of you in the future. Well, not everyone gets off from licking old wounds. So when she tries to rip out stitches from something you thought had been secured, the flesh wound will be anything but minor, and little miss-behaved I will be happy to have you back in her life, yelling in her ear. Thus, I propose this, though killing a girl with kindness is a great tactic, but ignoring them completely is even better. Since she thrives on confrontation, she’ll have to navigate herself elsewhere to get the attention she wants (and so deserves)! And while you watch her writhing in angst over your non-returned invitation, you get the added bonus of having her resort to self-socializing – and nothing is better than a silent fight. Welcome to a new kind of cold war, kids.

There are a lot of things one has reason to fear in Los Scandalous: earthquakes, gang violence, the dreaded encounter with a former flame. The city is always immense except when you want to avoid someone, and then it’s unavoidably quaint. So what do you do when the dreaded close encounter finally takes place? Better yet, what do you do when he’s sporting his latest and greatest accessory – bad dye job apparently included. Take comfort in the fact that you a) survived, and b) that your hair doesn’t look as fried as something that should be served on a Denny’s late-night menu. So when the once wanted rendezvous takes a turn for the worse, smile through denial and always remember that no amount of bad-bottle-blonde dye jobs will make her what you were. Egocentric? Maybe slightly. But still dating Darwinism at its finest. Survival of the hottest isn’t a theory here in this city that never sleeps – it’s a rule. Travel in packs and look fierce, so when the bad fried-and-died mess has the pleasure of meeting you, you have the privilege of getting through it with grace.

In a city where everything is amplified, fast cars have to be faster, fast food is never ever fast enough, and hooking up turns into a relationship before you can even blink – it’s safe to say the L.A. dating scene is virtually non-existent. Discussing this phenomenon with my best friend, it became apparent that lines must be drawn. This lazy dating trend train that everyone is jumping on to is a vicious cycle. So if you don’t hook up, you have no chance? That seems more than ridiculous, but unfortunately true. What it comes down to is, the rules are completely extinct – so just take it a day at a time. Go out, stay in, enjoy whatever the latest tryst trend may be. Just remember the situation is almost never black and white. Mostly, everything comes in shades of gray.

You know those nights? The nights you can’t remember with friends you’ll never forget? And no matter what your vice of choice is to make the seven deadly sins more appealing, you end up trying to erase the little parts of the night you can piece together. Unfortunately for you, in this age of great technology, your brain has adapted to the DVR mentality, and you watch scenes unfold like a bad rerun you can’t erase. All in all, was the sin worth spending the following day in hell? Of course, so long as you indulge in moderation, right? But then again, in California where less is almost never more- moderation is a term that’s almost extinct. So, maintain the modest mentality and indulge every so often. But just remember, if you want to play- you’ll most certainly have to pay.

The most dangerous creature stalking this silver-screen city is the actor. You assume that this situation will resemble every other relationship you’ve ever had. The teeny weeny minor complication you fail to notice, is that this particular brand of boy is, in fact, not as easily erasable as other varieties. So, because the Surgeon General has neglected to warn the public about the dangers this type of tryst can cause, I have taken the liberty of drafting a disclaimer. Be warned that if one chooses to engage in a relationship with an actor, or less specifically, any member of the entertainment field, be aware that said sinfully sweet scenario is less than easily erasable. An on-again-off-again relationship can go from third time’s a charm to a three-peat mistake in an L.A. minute. The starving artist you very intimately familiarized yourself with is not a candidate for the hit it and quit it kind of escape, and before you can change the channel, they end up as a repeat appearance on not only your favorite show, but in your life! Let it be said that no amount of drugs that serve to satisfy said starving artist can induce an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind scenario, and you’re stuck with memories that rerun repeatedly from your screen to your psyche. Beware of the aspiring Academy Award contestants. One day, they’re orchestrating signs to hold on the nearest freeway exit that read “will act for food,” and the next they’re jumping from paper to play to pop star faster than the new Ferrari goes zero to sixty. So, before engaging in a little off-screen action, you have to ask yourself, is it worth it? And when it isn’t, well, in the grand tradition of every actor beforehand, repeat after me: I’d like to thank the academy…

California is pretty much drenched in fiery flame, and the inferno couldn’t be less reflective of the love lives of several of the girls I know. Just in time for the back-to-school b.s., girls seeking sufficient motivation to actually attend class are searching to satisfy said quest in the form of males who happen to matriculate at their chosen institutions. And while classes are still held in the midst of suffocating (and equally ominous) black clouds, the air quality outside isn’t even half as toxic as your post not-so-great-date state-of-mind. So while you’re stuck in class taking notes on what is sure to not help you achieve nuptial nirvana, you’re daydreaming that your love life gets as hot as the So Cal hillsides. The good news about this not-so-staged disaster set in our silver screen city? “Can you believe the weather” now constitutes an actual social starter! So while you’re pretending to take notes when you’re really marking your initials with that of some mystery man – remember that your love life can catch flame faster than the autumn brush. Maybe a little delinquent activity can help expedite the process. Smoke, loiter, you have a myriad of options at your heart’s (literally) disposal. Sometimes being bad is what gets you feeling so good.

Sometimes you meet the man of your mother’s dreams. He’s totally great on paper and pretty much bad everywhere else. So what do you do when Mr. Right is wrong right now? It’s like, if you’re not a starving artist, or wannabe-rockstar, please don’t call me. Clearly, I have the best judgment when it comes to dudes. So I have my friends on patrol, surveillance stalking me to see who and what I am hanging around. Here’s the thing – it’s not like I don’t try! I totally give Mr. Good-on-Paper a chance, and the third time may be a charm, but the fourth date is usually less promising. So what do you do when Mr. Right is all wrong? You turn him into Mr. Right Now and get on with your life. No matter how much your friends and fam complain, just remember, they’re not the one dating him! So get up and fix it. I’m a firm believer that you just know, so if you don’t feel right with Mr. Right – he’s clearly wrong. So postpone the happily ever after and take a hiatus. Make your love life “to be continued” and use and abuse the feeling. Hey, when you know – you know. You just need to get there – and clearly, my GPS is sorely out of service.

In a city comprised of five billion of your closest strangers, it’s inevitable that you’ll forget a few faces. Then, it’s completely possible that you’ll full on mistake a perfect stranger for a close friend. I found myself on the receiving end of just such a scenario this past Saturday night. I had just arrived at the Belmont, and was warmly embraced by a random dude! Either the Belmont had one hell of a welcome wagon, or this was just an honest mistake. So, being the ever-ready girl on the go that I am, I returned the hug with the gracious phrase, “I’m sorry – do I know you?” He retorted point blank, that he was so-and-so, and that we had just finalized our date on the phone. I had clearly stumbled into someone else’s blind date –and, let’s face it, it’s hard enough to endure the surprise scenario when one is prepared for just such a situation. Now imagine if it were a sneak attack! He made quite an impression on both myself, and his actual date, who happened to be watching the entire catastrophe unfold from right behind us! Not only were the bouncer and I laughing hysterically, my night now came complete with one hell of an ice-breaker. So, thanks to said stranger, his actual date (who besides the long dark hair looked nothing like me) and the minor meeting mishap, there were no awkward silences that couldn’t be handled with a quick bit of wit. If you can’t laugh at yourself, at least laugh at the other dude locked in the simple scenario with you. Los Scandalous sets the stage for a various number of scenes. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst and laugh with your audience. If you’re going down, do it with grace-and you’ll often end up saving yourself and your co-conspirator from very public humiliation.