By the time you read this, I’ll likely be on my way to Mexico or there already. So we’ll call this week’s and next week’s column “Drinking in Mexico.” Which is much more socially acceptable, anyway. Next week, I’ll have plenty of stories about passing out in the sand and such, but for now I’m just dealing with the awful task of getting to LAX. Seriously, who puts a major international airport in the middle of the city?

Going on vacation to Mexico is weird when you live in Southern California, which is basically occupied Mexico (and not occupied that well, actually). But again, more on all that next week. First, more glitz and glamour!

As I may have mentioned before, most of my easiest-job-in-the-world involves going to press junkets, where filmmakers sit around in cushy hotels and talk about trying to stay authentic to the soul of a story in which Matthew Perry wakes up as Zac Efron, or how Jamie Foxx would be absolutely lost if he ever lost his mind. It’s all surreal and silly, but there are Belgian waffles and applewood smoked bacon, so I could not possibly complain.

Of course, I haven’t been at it as long as some of my colleagues at the fancy hotel sit-downs. And they’ve come to expect a certain level of treatment from the studios. At a recent junket for a Seth Rogen-led dark comedy that shall remain nameless, someone thought they could save money by not providing breakfast for the print journalists. And the halls nearly ran red with blood.

But don’t worry, before anyone was seriously injured, one of my fellow reporters — because we’re investigative! — found the room where they were keeping the food for the TV journalists. And it was good.

With summer movie season approaching, I’m getting junketed left and right. The past few weeks, I’ve been at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills at least twice a week. It’s gotten to a point where the valet guys welcome me back, sir. Of course, I’m guessing a Ford Focus with Maine plates stands out for them.

And while the whole “entertainment journalism” thing can seem a bit frivolous and whorish at times, it does afford me the opportunities to hear some truly amazing statements. Statements like “Stallone wrote a great script that he wants to direct about Edgar Allen Poe.”

I love this town.

“Drinking in L.A.” is Ned Ehrbar’s look at life as a bleary-eyed East Coast refugee in sunny Southern California. You can see Ned’s other work here, and you’re more than welcome to follow him on Twitter, as awful as that sounds.”