I Survived Girls' Night In From "Vanderpump Rules"
Remember the first blog I wrote where I said I would be writing about stuff that wouldn’t be published at sites I work for since this section is literally named “Shit My Bosses Won’t Let Me Write?” Yeah, so I maybe would’ve been allowed to write about going to SUR had something similar not only been published. So this is so on brand for them it’s already been done, I’m aware.. But fuck it, I’ll publish my thoughts on going to SUR here because I have SO MANY (so sorry for the length in advance, but it’s WORTH IT).
When I first arrived at SUR, it was already a scene. It was Girl's Night In, which is a party "hosted" by the ladies of Pump Rules in order to spite DJ James Kennedy since Katie got White Kanye fired for calling her fat. The Pump Rules ladies that showed face to the event were more of the second fiddle stars because the main starlet Stassi had better things to do like...well, like anything else and our favorite villain James Kennedy was probably too busy FaceTuning his own dick pics. So anyways, Katie has had internet threads upon internet threads calling her fat and has even been called fat once or twice on the show. Guys, there is simply no way this chick is fat. I don't get why being tall, broad shouldered, and having your thighs touch gives people license to call you fat, but it's f*cking bullshit and it's everything that's wrong with society. She's actually the most beautiful one there, largely because she hasn't been so liberal with nips, tucks, and Adderall. She looked absolutely gorgeous and healthy. Brittany looks exactly like the kind of chick that would move all the way from Kentucky to LA for a bartender who got a porn star pregnant even though he had a girlfriend, owns a Saturdays Are For The Boys flag at the age of 40, and tracks the hashtags "man cave" and "muscle car" on Instagram. I could also smell Scheana's makeup from yards away. I literally could stomach Girls' Night In in less time than Rob can hang a TV (seven minutes, in case Scheana hasn't reminded you for the 13059th time).
The ladies were ensconced in an attachable plastic "room" (WTF are those called?) to the restaurant with two bodyguards standing at the entrance to ensure fans didn't enter. The fans were the Who's Who of people who would have the audacity to show face to a party at SUR that falsely advertised on Instagram that they would be partying with the cast of Pump Rules. I could literally light these chicks on fire and make it look like an accident because between their cheap, shitty weaves and outfits made of synthetic fabrics, they'd burst into flames in a second. And yes, these chicks were so obnoxious that I considered lighting them on fire. This isn't new for me, I often fantasize about these kinds of things. Anyways, the room was packed, yet it was so easy to get a drink because everyone else was gathered around the entrance to this so called "VIP area" (if you wanna call it that), gawking at these girls who were staring at their phones and whispering at each other. Usually, we're so used to watching these girls talk shit about each other on television. In this scenario, however, we were watching these girls talk shit about us. Oh, how the tables have turned.
Anyways, I made my way back to the restaurant part of SUR. It looked like a knock off version of Pietro Nolita. You're already basic enough if you take an Instagram at Pietro Nolita, so I can't even imagine how lame you are to take an Instagram at SUR. TBH I honestly wished I sat in the back alley from the show where all of the castmembers sneak alcohol, smoke, and definitely fuck instead of sitting in this room.
The waitresses' uniforms were so short that the small foreign children that make the uniforms could wear them as crop tops. I sat amongst a sea of tourists and girls who were having "GNO's" (clutch Miley Cyrus song). The girls who were having GNO's bothered the living hell outta me because there's simply no way there's people out there that have more than two friends, yet here Ashleigh and twenty of her best friends sit, plotting their trip to Coachella so that they can hookup with guys with manbuns while rolling face and tell everyone back at USC that they experienced 90 seconds of "pleasure" from a guy they swear is a member of Maroon 5. (Plot twist: his career is a shitty t-shirt line and selling fake MDMA to 13 year olds. Also, he has chlymidia.) The other women I sat amongst clearly went to a hair salon at a strip mall, showed them a picture of Callista Gingrich, and said to them, "Just fuck my shit up." I honestly would not be surprised if they tried to pay for their meal at SUR with a coupon or asked for Barefoot Moscato with some ice cubes in it. It was awkward sitting amongst these women not just because I'm a hot bitch who is way better dressed than them, but because at least a third of these women are the ones who viciously attacked me on Twitter because I made a joke about Clay Aiken being a has-been. But then I realized that I was the only one that was dining alone so they definitely thought I was a loser as well. LOL they're probably totally right.
TBH, the experience was totally awkward, and it wasn't because I was eating alone and felt weird about it. It was because I was eating alone and wasn’t even the biggest loser there. It was no different than dining at tourist traps like Planet Hollywood. I decided right then and there that there was no way I wouldn’t even check out Tom Tom right down the street because I didn't want to put myself through this ordeal any longer. It would honestly be no different than doing one of those Hollywood bus tours. BTW, I decided that this experience totally wasn't worth it before I even ordered my meal.
I got the spicy margarita because of course I did. Everyone always assumes I'm a tequila kind of girl and I know that's probably a lowkey insult, but they're totally right because people who are one a first name basis with employees are the Pleasure Chest and have a 2.5 star rating on Uber tend to be tequila girls. It was good, but solely because you can't go wrong with a spicy margarita (unless someone as incompetent as Jax made it for you). I also got the shrimp and crab cakes and, of course, the famous goat cheese balls. If these appetizers were as good as they claimed, I would've 1000% gotten an entree. But unfortunately, they weren't anything to write home about, or even take an photo of to put on an Instagram story. The goat cheese balls are fuckin' hella. Do you know why, though? Because fried cheese is amazing no matter what. They were literally fancy mozzerella sticks, and you only get three of them and they're served on some awkward "salad."
The highlight of my night, however, wasn't til the end. SUR famously hires attractive staff- that's half the allure of Vanderpump Rules and why we put up with watching them collapse in on themselves like dying stars. L.A. restaurants are notoriously picky about hiring hot staff- especially in West Hollywood or Beverly Hills-places like that. I was at Sugarfish with a friend while I was in L.A. and our waiter was even better looking than most of the men that are in People's Sexiest Man Alive issue. So while I was waiting for an Uber, a bunch of girls came up to me and started talking to me about SUR. I was weirded out because I'm a New Yorker and I was like, "Why do these chicks have the audacity to talk to me?" Then they asked to be seated because they legit thought I worked there. Wow, I'm extremely attractive. What a compliment. I haven't been flattered like this since when I was younger and would go to Abercrombie and Fitch and someone would ask me to show them to a dressing room pretty much every time because they thought I worked there. That's another place that notoriously hired good-looking people until they got hit with those discrimination lawsuits. Anyways, this interaction made my night totally worth it. And so the countdown until the compliment wears off begins when some nameless, faceless assholes on the Internet call me fat.
The main takeaways here? SUR is basically a TGI Friday's cloaked in purple velvet drapery and an unnecessary amount of throw pillows. Anything that's fried cheese is amazing. And most importantly, I'm extremely good-looking, even in L.A.