Ivy, shmivy: Robertson Boulevard's got cheaper options for those of us who are still one E.R. guest spot away from the big times.

Chaya Brasserie is the Kia Rio owner's alternative to weekend brunch at The Ivy. I headed out with my gf and bf (that's my Godfather and Brendan Fraser) this weekend and pigged out on their sun-tastic outdoor patio. A round of flavored lemonades -- peach, mango and green tea -- was followed by ginormous portions of tuna tartare with avocado, chopped salad with popcorn shrimp and an ahi tuna burger. Yum. Favorite part of the meal: when the couple at the next table sent back their brunch pizza (scrambled eggs on a pizza shell with a drizzling of truffle oil) because it was "too truffle-y." Nice style!

When you're done with brunch, shop at Kitson, hit up Newsroom for a smoothie or wreck your car a la Lindsay Lohan. Maybe that'll make you feel like a star.

It’s Sunday evening. It’s taken this long to fully recuperate and get my head around the proceedings of this past Friday evening. A couple of us Metromixers hit up the Avalon for the Club 82 party. And boy, did we ever. The open V2 vodka bar was routinely abused. We blagged our way into the backstage area, upstairs and eventually ended up onstage. Ima Robot played an appropriately dramatic set. Amir Keenan partied like a rock star, dancing onstage during their set until he was basically another member of the band. Shadowscene (AKA “Hotparazzi”) snapped away furiously. DJ Paparazzi chilled out. Drunk people got, well, drunker. The crowd danced and posed and partied. I was a complete idiot. It was lots of big fun. Hooray for Club 82.

Despite all the beautiful redonkulousness happening this weekend, the Ward hit the road solo for an excursion to the wilderness of Nothern California.  

At present, I am writing to you from a cabin in the middle of the woods. The American River is gushing over boulders in front of me. It's so gorgeous, I keep assuming it's fake. Also, I hear there are copious trout in this river, and really, I don't care if bloodthirsty mermaids were chillin' it in-- I'm going swimming tomorrow morning.  

But I've dispatched troops to peep into all sorts of madness this weekend, so stay tuned for photos and eyewitness accounts of Zombie walks, Flip Cup tourney action and more.

Also, stay tuned for my blurry account of Metromix's first ever party, which went down amid a packed, sweaty house at the Avalon's Club 82 Friday. Holy vodka, it was good times:

Mr. Amir Kenan demonstrates the art of The Doublefist 

Miss Ward demonstrates its effect

 Check back for more photos of increased ridiculousness. Now, back to kickin' it riverside...

Ps- In the woods, they have bugs; my glowing Mac screen is currently attracting a moth rave.