black velvet margarita

Something I just learned today -- Madonna born/Elvis died. Same day, different years.

There's a fantastic place on Cahuenga (ish?) called Velvet Margarita. You can stop in for a drink in the middle of the day and it feels like 1 a.m. when you walk through the door. Bring sunglasses, because when you walk back out, you'll be reacting like Spike on the Summer Solstice. Point being -- they *always* have some kitschy old Elvis movie playing on the gigantic plasmas over the bar. Always. Kick back, enjoy a frosty pina colada (they have many, many variations of the margarita, most of which are great) and have some laughs.

Meanwhile, Alannah Myles's purr tells us what it was all about.

[One of my favorite songs ever and I had to look her name up. One-hit wonder much?]

When I was clicking through the rest of the NY Post, I found that Bob Marley is now the number one object of black velvet paintings. Make of it what you will.

The odd thing is that his music doesn't have much emotional resonance to/for me. So I'm kinda befuddled as to the massive lines around Graceland and candlelight vigils to memorialize someone these people didn't even *know*. It seems so silly somehow and yet...doesn't.

But I suppose that's true of so many things in life.