The key to successful blogging is constant updates, and tonight, I hope to unleash the torrent of a future full of posts. Big ones! Small ones! Interesting ones! Well, mostly interesting. It is Lent and the season to be humble, afterall.

But where was humility this weekend? I went south, past Los Angeles proper and all its traffic into the great Orange beyond, meaning the O.C., to visit with friends and be a miser. The money in my wallet was and is mine, and I had no intentions of parting with a cent from Friday through Sunday.

L.A.-ians will tell foreigners that spending cash is unavoidable for several reasons: 1) You can avoid spending money, but can you avoid buying gas to get where you want to go? 2) You can avoid buying anything, but can you a) avoid paying for parking or b) avoid being polite and just buying something because you i) want it or ii) can’t help it ? And 3) we, the consumers of Los Angeles, are an economic machine! We buy and you are fed; we drive and fill your coffers; we watch TV, and I’m sure something else amazing happens.

But I was going against convention! I was going to pull through the night by not pulling out my credit card! And that was why, the Art Walk at the Lab seemed like such a good deal. Art, which is not consumer-based, would surely be the haven of a pennypincher.

First, let’s talk about the Lab.

Orange County has a plethora of malls, but the Lab is the anti-mall. It is an escape for hipsters tired of brands, corporations and stores that don’t sell hemp. Taking up a little space on Bristol Blvd, the Lab entices with bohemian eateries and cafes, non-mainstream boutiques like Urban Outfitters, quite a few hair salons and quirky, architectural and (perhaps) local art. There is no GAP! The anti-mall repels alls mega-mall-o-maniac ideals!

I get a kick out of the Lab. Go to Zipangu for delightful Japanese food.

Anyway, Saturday, me and my friends met up at the Gypsy Den at the Lab to tour the three art galleries open for the evening. First up was The Box, a chic, sleek, modern and brand new salon that moonlighted as a chic, sleek, modern and brand new gallery. Two artists were on display, but only one’s name shall be etched into eternity on this blog: Jeff Claassen. The group consensus was that his work was edgy, interesting, Japanese-inspired and very accessible. I liked his work but was more impressed by his marketing techniques and use of different mediums. His paintings were on blocks of wood and canvas, and he had a range of merchandise for sale: wallets, miniprints, t-shirts and etc. for people who wanted to buy art by only spending so much. Of course, this blurs the whole idea of the unique soul of an art piece. By mass-producing his art, is it still art? By releasing a larger piece in smaller pocket-sized mediums, does it kill the value? Or does it just bring greater appreciation and a larger audience to the artist and art-in-general’s doorstep?

Shrugs. If you have an opinion, go ahead and share. And if you don’t, I like the play Art by Yasmina Reza. And that’s all I have to say about that.

The other plus about the Box was that they truly pampered us walkers. As soon as we wandered across the outdoor entrance (a sidewalk, which you could chalkdraw on), we were treated to free wine! Free fresh-baked cookies! Free bit-sized sandwich wraps! And free candy! Here’s the thing: When the lady offered us candy, my friend and I were about to turn it down for even though the closed boxes suggested delicious chocolate, we really didn’t think much of it. The lady saw our doubt. She made us pause. She opened a box and lo! There were fist-sized chocolate-covered strawberries! What could we do put pick and choose one juicy berry?

We ate. We were very merry.

The other two galleries were ok. We (I) felt the art of the second was safe rather than interesting. It’s goal was to succeed in alarming no one, and it did. The third gallery was also at a salon-turned gallery. I’m sure the works belonged to longtime and newly-started artists, so there were some intriguing pieces, others that lacked maturity and more that were nice but failed to excite.

The night ended at the Tin Lizzie, a gay bar guarded anxiously by a chihuahua, in which we all realized it was St. Paddy’s weekend, and two of us had apple martinis. There was also a very concerned debate over whether men really do walk up to women and offer to buy them drinks. Some said it was a reality. Others said it was a fantasy. But the concern was such that we took it with us to Memphis Cafe across the street where I, at least, accosted a few other person as to their opinion before ending the night.

Total amount spent: $0.00

Moral of the story: Ask your friend to drive and, if a stranger won’t buy the drink for you, hope that you are in the presence of a kind and generous friend who will. (^_^)v