The LA Flake RSVPs To Your Party

In the satirical style of McSweeny’s, but with GIFs.

Hi you!

Thanks so much for the invite to your fabulous occasion! It sounds like it’ll be an amazing good time and I’ll definitely try to see if I can maybe drop by for a little bit.

You see what I did there. I know you did. I hate to break it to you, but it’s true — like so many Los Angeles transplants and natives before me, I have succumbed to the virus that East Coasters hate about us, but fellow Angelenos are secretly relieved to have….

I have the flakiness. I’m flaky. I’m an LA Flake

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No, I’m not talking about cereal, but have you seen all the cereal on ice cream, boba, and donuts these days? Whoops, getting off topic. Angelenos are widely known for their flakiness. “Maybe” RSVPs are more common than actual RSVPs. “Maybe,” “might,” and “drop by,” are common words in our vernacular. Everyone says “let’s get drinks,” but no one does — and it’s kind of a relief. 

Confession: I don’t really want to get drinks. I only said it as a reflex, like Chandler in that episode of Friends where he is just trying to be polite to Rachel’s boss after a one-night stand.

What I really want is a nap and some burgers. Maybe. Because I’m an LA Flake and I might decide to go vegan on the way to the burger place. You never know.

You shouldn’t take it personally. According to KCRW, only about 25 percent of registered voters in LA voted in 2014’s General Election, which means Angelenos are even flaky about important things like selecting the politicians who determine your rights and junk. So really, it’s nothing to do with you (accept when it is). It’s just how LA people are.

We have so many excuses and, to our credit, some of them are true, but also some are just excuses: “I passed out early last night,” “I just saw this text,” and “who dis?” In true LA nature, we will say anything else so we don’t have to say no.

We’re so used to calling bullshit on excuses that we don’t even buy it when the excuse is legit true. I have plans with family. My mother accepts no excuses and she gave birth to me, so advantage goes to my mom here. I can’t make it, because of work. You may work a jolly 9-5 job and have lots of fun downtime, but I don’t; you never seem to understand that I don’t have five hours free to lounge and listen to you faux whine about your fabulous life over wine. I’m tired of reminding you. 

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Perhaps it might be my age. I’m in my 30s, a decade in which “Netflix and Chill” literally means passing out during Trevor Noah’s comedy special on Netflix while making a weird felt craft. Wild times.

It might the traffic, too. To be completely honest, sometimes I just don’t feel like crossing La Brea. And it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with traveling across La Brea. Sometimes I am curious as to what lies on the other side, but other times, a nap sounds really, really nice. And some vegan tacos.

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Vegan tacos from Gracias Madre

It might be OBOing, which spelled out is the phrase “Or Better Offer,” which people use when they’re trying to get rid a dirty old couch, but I’m using it socially. We all have our social bubbles and I have mine. It’s comfy. It’s safe. It’s priority. Sure, sometimes bubbles burst and I’ll have a free moment to catch up with you, my best friend for one semester in school. I’ll say yes to the invite in the moment, then spend all the hours leading up to this big reunion wondering if we have anything left in common, other than shared memories that aren’t actually all that good. Actually, you were really rude and condescending to me back then, as well as in our current correspondence and I’m only realizing this in hindsight. Can we reschedule? This week’s no good for me.

It might be the parking. Because there’s nothing like paying $20 to park in a shady alley in Hollywood to get you in the mood to party it up at a trendy bar filled with bros who spill their overpriced beers on you and, instead of apologizing for being total douches, they say “Wow, that sucks.” It really does. You made me cross La Brea for this party and there are no vegan tacos here. Drinks next week?

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To be perfectly honest, I think I’m just going to take a nap instead.

Oh wait, there are free vegan tacos at your party? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll see you at 8 p.m. sharp. Can I bring my friend who hates you? I don’t really like your friends.

Love,

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The LA Flake

Images from Giphy and Twitter/DennysDiner

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Mallory is the founder and foodie-in-chief of Couch Potato Cook. She is a writer and journalist based in Los Angeles by day, and a foodie in her spare time.

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