Holy shit y'all. Pride is 18 days away (our week starts on Tuesday). If I don't jump on here much, it's because I'm in the weeds. Please forgive me and just keep checking back.
It's as good as here. Time to make the donuts.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Starstruck
I'm one of those jaded individuals that rarely gets starstruck. I had a conversation with Halle Berry and didn't flinch (mostly because I didn't realize it was her), told Pink I didn't like her hat (this was during her "Can't Take Me Home" days), had reality tv stars thrown out of the bar and even had dinner with JP Calderon, various porn stars, Disco and Dance floor Divas, headlining electornica acts, you know the drill.
So, tonight we are hosting Frankie Knuckles at the club. For the record, I worship the man. He has done so much for the love of my life - dance music, that I was ecstatic he took the offer to come play Atlanta and namely WETbar. Well, he called me today as he was picked up at the airport.
"This is Arman."
"Arman, it's Frankie Knuckles."
"OHMYGAWD!"
"That was funny, your voice went up an octave."
Yeah, there's no regrouping from that. Frankie Knuckles now knows I could be a borderline stalker. And, I'm ok with that. (swoon)
So, tonight we are hosting Frankie Knuckles at the club. For the record, I worship the man. He has done so much for the love of my life - dance music, that I was ecstatic he took the offer to come play Atlanta and namely WETbar. Well, he called me today as he was picked up at the airport.
"This is Arman."
"Arman, it's Frankie Knuckles."
"OHMYGAWD!"
"That was funny, your voice went up an octave."
Yeah, there's no regrouping from that. Frankie Knuckles now knows I could be a borderline stalker. And, I'm ok with that. (swoon)
Friday, May 25, 2007
You Ain't Mickey...
Last Sunday, I discovered I had a roommate. I went into the kitchen for something to drink and out of the corner of my eye I saw a blur of grey jump out of a pizza box sitting on my stove. Now, before any of you start, the pizza was only an hour old. As a matter of fact, I had only eaten one slice out of it because of my really bad addiction to chicken wings.
For the record, I hate ants, spiders, cockroaches, rats and mice. HATE. It was already pretty late so I opted to hide out in the bedroom which I had armed with one of those electronic pest things. This past Tuesday, JD and I headed out to Wally Mart where i purchased three more electronic pest thingies and two glue traps which I strategically placed by the trash can and next to the stove.
Late last night after work, I threw my bag and computer on the couch and slumped down to decompress. I looked over by the trash can and noticed my glue trap was gone.
Huh? Where the fuck..
Ah ha. The glue trap had been dragged across the kitchen floor by the front legs of my roommate. Its hindlegs and tail were securely stuck to the trap. Of course, my first instinct was to to talk shit.
"Oh really? You just had to come into my apartment, didn't you?"
It just squeaked away and tried to pull itself off the trap.
"Where ya' going? No where, buddy, you're heading right on over to the dumpster where your cousins and maybe a cat will have you for dinner."
For a second there, I thought the little fucker just might break away from the trap so I took a pen and tried to squish him down more securely. All I managed to do was make his squeak even louder and wiggle more fiercely. He did make the mistake of twisting himself back onto the trap with the front part of his body.
"Dumbass. See, you should have went next door."
Yeah, looking back, I see the insanity of a grown ass man talking shit to a now helpless mouse, but c'mon now, it was a victory nonetheless.
With the mouse completely immobile on the glue trap, I felt safe enough to nudge the mouse and its new home into a garbage bag. For a second, I thought to myself, you're kinda cute now that you're not running freely all over my kitchen. But on the same token, you ain't Mickey bitch, so you gotta go.
I took my ex-roommate out the front door and headed towards the dumpster. On my way, the wind blew a leaf over my foot which made me jump about ten feet in the air. I accidentally flung the bag and watched as it hit the tree in front of my apartment building. Well, if it wasn't dead before, it is now. At least now I can say it was an accidental death.
I lifted up the cover of the dumpster and chucked the bag inside. Then, I promptly went back inside and hosed my kitchen down with disinfectant. Just to be on the safe side, I think I'll buy a couple more of those glue traps.
For the record, I hate ants, spiders, cockroaches, rats and mice. HATE. It was already pretty late so I opted to hide out in the bedroom which I had armed with one of those electronic pest things. This past Tuesday, JD and I headed out to Wally Mart where i purchased three more electronic pest thingies and two glue traps which I strategically placed by the trash can and next to the stove.
Late last night after work, I threw my bag and computer on the couch and slumped down to decompress. I looked over by the trash can and noticed my glue trap was gone.
Huh? Where the fuck..
Ah ha. The glue trap had been dragged across the kitchen floor by the front legs of my roommate. Its hindlegs and tail were securely stuck to the trap. Of course, my first instinct was to to talk shit.
"Oh really? You just had to come into my apartment, didn't you?"
It just squeaked away and tried to pull itself off the trap.
"Where ya' going? No where, buddy, you're heading right on over to the dumpster where your cousins and maybe a cat will have you for dinner."
For a second there, I thought the little fucker just might break away from the trap so I took a pen and tried to squish him down more securely. All I managed to do was make his squeak even louder and wiggle more fiercely. He did make the mistake of twisting himself back onto the trap with the front part of his body.
"Dumbass. See, you should have went next door."
Yeah, looking back, I see the insanity of a grown ass man talking shit to a now helpless mouse, but c'mon now, it was a victory nonetheless.
With the mouse completely immobile on the glue trap, I felt safe enough to nudge the mouse and its new home into a garbage bag. For a second, I thought to myself, you're kinda cute now that you're not running freely all over my kitchen. But on the same token, you ain't Mickey bitch, so you gotta go.
I took my ex-roommate out the front door and headed towards the dumpster. On my way, the wind blew a leaf over my foot which made me jump about ten feet in the air. I accidentally flung the bag and watched as it hit the tree in front of my apartment building. Well, if it wasn't dead before, it is now. At least now I can say it was an accidental death.
I lifted up the cover of the dumpster and chucked the bag inside. Then, I promptly went back inside and hosed my kitchen down with disinfectant. Just to be on the safe side, I think I'll buy a couple more of those glue traps.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Dear Friends,
It is almost time for Pride. Please expect me to call in all favors owed. Ferg was the first victim as he became a Personal Assistant for Kimberley Locke this past weekend (or as I like to call him, Kimberley's "Boy Bitch").
Well, we're open from Tuesday through Sunday (June 19-24) with at least two entertainers per night - some nights have three. So yeah, kids. Expect to not just observe Pride, but be part of it. Expect to be on the float, expect to help me build a windmill and a giant elephant. Yeah, I'm serious. We're putting on the Spectacular Spectacular here.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Seriously?
I remember when I was a kid and my older or younger brother ratted me out for the most random bullshit. And then, in turn, I would rat them out for something even bigger which would distract the attention away from me temporarily. I was about to play that card again - but opted not to, deciding to keep it under me hat for another day. It is still there to play though.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
An Open Letter to Rotted
Time's up. Oh and for the record, I don't do things anonymously. I'm pretty up front about it.
As much as I would love to take credit, I simply can not.
Love always,
Arman
As much as I would love to take credit, I simply can not.
Love always,
Arman
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
I Don't Feel Like Dancin'
I don't feel like dancin', no sir, no dancin' today.
So HR delivered the news yesterday. it seems I wasn't the only one that was disappointed with the decision. E, M and even big K were all distraught to a degree. Actually three out of four of us were drinking before seven. Yeah, not cute.
Here's my thing, which I always have a "thing." I don't understand how someone that has proven to be invaluable to a company can be discarded so easily (if you don't get it - it wasn't me, it was someone I hold very dear). He went above and beyond his duties as an "entertainer." He helped us install fucking soundproofing for fuck's sake.
Another thing I don't understand is that the big K and I have to terminate someone the other week who went out the door pretty much threatening the business with a lawsuit and yet he is allowed to stroll back into the bar?
Who?
Huh?
WHAT THE FUCK?
I'm going to need you people to get your fucking act together.
I'm going to need some answers.
I'm going to need another drink.
Title and first line from Scissor Sisters' "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'"
So HR delivered the news yesterday. it seems I wasn't the only one that was disappointed with the decision. E, M and even big K were all distraught to a degree. Actually three out of four of us were drinking before seven. Yeah, not cute.
Here's my thing, which I always have a "thing." I don't understand how someone that has proven to be invaluable to a company can be discarded so easily (if you don't get it - it wasn't me, it was someone I hold very dear). He went above and beyond his duties as an "entertainer." He helped us install fucking soundproofing for fuck's sake.
Another thing I don't understand is that the big K and I have to terminate someone the other week who went out the door pretty much threatening the business with a lawsuit and yet he is allowed to stroll back into the bar?
Who?
Huh?
WHAT THE FUCK?
I'm going to need you people to get your fucking act together.
I'm going to need some answers.
I'm going to need another drink.
Title and first line from Scissor Sisters' "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'"
Monday, May 07, 2007
Ol' Webslinger
I was a total comics junkie as a kid/early teenager (Marvel, not DC), so when Ferg and JD said they wanted to go see Spiderman 3, I was all over it. Naturally, we calculated the best time (ie when all of us could get our act together) to avoid small children and went with the 7:30 show. We got there in plenty of time to secure our tickets and then go get some grub at California Pizza Kitchen.
Now, I'm a big believer that a good movie is indicative of two things. The first is the amount of times you check your watch. Checking your watch means that you want to know what time it is and calculate how much time is left in the flick - all in all, not a good sign. The second is if I would suggest the movie to a dear friend (no colleagues or co-workers, just dear friends). So, how did Spider-Man rate according to the Arman tests? Well, I never checked the time so it certainly kept my attention. And, I would totally tell someone to see it if they're a fan of the first two films and/or the comic book and/or a good action flick. So, at the end of the day I guess you could say it was pretty good.
Most of my problems with it were relatively the same with the first two of the franchise and that includes: after stripping away the rush of the action sequences, the storyline is totally Velveeta, just cheese for days. And, not even good cheese - a block of room temperature cheese product. And, of course, the mass market appeal of the audience it's gonna draw in, all of which are my biggest pet peeves with going to the movies:
-Crying babies (cute, but get a fucking babysitter)
-Late arrivals that ask you to scoot down (other people do exist aside from yourself and your three friends)
-Cell phones ringing (there were how many polite commercials asking you to turn your shit off)
-Loud Q&As between the in the know and novice movie watchers (it's Spiderman, seriously, it's not quantum physics)
I'm so glad we had cocktails first, but damn you CPK for your lack of Jaeger.
Now, I'm a big believer that a good movie is indicative of two things. The first is the amount of times you check your watch. Checking your watch means that you want to know what time it is and calculate how much time is left in the flick - all in all, not a good sign. The second is if I would suggest the movie to a dear friend (no colleagues or co-workers, just dear friends). So, how did Spider-Man rate according to the Arman tests? Well, I never checked the time so it certainly kept my attention. And, I would totally tell someone to see it if they're a fan of the first two films and/or the comic book and/or a good action flick. So, at the end of the day I guess you could say it was pretty good.
Most of my problems with it were relatively the same with the first two of the franchise and that includes: after stripping away the rush of the action sequences, the storyline is totally Velveeta, just cheese for days. And, not even good cheese - a block of room temperature cheese product. And, of course, the mass market appeal of the audience it's gonna draw in, all of which are my biggest pet peeves with going to the movies:
-Crying babies (cute, but get a fucking babysitter)
-Late arrivals that ask you to scoot down (other people do exist aside from yourself and your three friends)
-Cell phones ringing (there were how many polite commercials asking you to turn your shit off)
-Loud Q&As between the in the know and novice movie watchers (it's Spiderman, seriously, it's not quantum physics)
I'm so glad we had cocktails first, but damn you CPK for your lack of Jaeger.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Love Me or Hate Me? That Is the Question
If you love me - thank you; if you hate me, then fuck you.
I have a confession to make: One of my favorite things about my job is determining who gets to be on the guest list and who does not. I'm also a big reaction person. I love watching people's honest reactions. During the first Liquified event at WETbar, I loved watching everyone's jaw drop when they roamed from room to room exploring the venue.
At any rate, my penchant for honest reaction and the guest list always seems to thrill me each Saturday. My favorite thing in the world is to tell typical assholes that feel entitled to be on the list that they're not on it. The excuses are always the same, "I know __________ (fill in blank with 'the owner,' 'the manager, 'the DJ,' a bartender,' 'a performer')," "Don't you know who I am," "__________ isn't coming tonight; I'm here in their place."
Sorry hon, General Admission is that a way.
My counterpart from a Downtown club known for its afterhours came in with four guests last night. He looked sharp, but expected to stroll right on in with his posse. Now, for the record, I'm all about club courtesy, but there are better ways to handle it. Let's try calling first and notifying management that you're stopping by maybe? Asking for the manager when you arrive? No, you don't try to fucking take wristbands from the concierge and when denied storm out saying the club is a piece of shit. Mary, here are your afterhours fliers I had security round up. Please don't expect to ever bring them back in the club. Asshole.
I swear we're not divas. We're actually the furthest thing from that. Most of the staff is pretty laidback and mild-mannered. Just don't piss them off. Cause quite frankly, whether you love them or hate them (myself included), we really could give a good god damn.
Title and first line from Lady Sovereign's "Love Me or Hate Me."
I have a confession to make: One of my favorite things about my job is determining who gets to be on the guest list and who does not. I'm also a big reaction person. I love watching people's honest reactions. During the first Liquified event at WETbar, I loved watching everyone's jaw drop when they roamed from room to room exploring the venue.
At any rate, my penchant for honest reaction and the guest list always seems to thrill me each Saturday. My favorite thing in the world is to tell typical assholes that feel entitled to be on the list that they're not on it. The excuses are always the same, "I know __________ (fill in blank with 'the owner,' 'the manager, 'the DJ,' a bartender,' 'a performer')," "Don't you know who I am," "__________ isn't coming tonight; I'm here in their place."
Sorry hon, General Admission is that a way.
My counterpart from a Downtown club known for its afterhours came in with four guests last night. He looked sharp, but expected to stroll right on in with his posse. Now, for the record, I'm all about club courtesy, but there are better ways to handle it. Let's try calling first and notifying management that you're stopping by maybe? Asking for the manager when you arrive? No, you don't try to fucking take wristbands from the concierge and when denied storm out saying the club is a piece of shit. Mary, here are your afterhours fliers I had security round up. Please don't expect to ever bring them back in the club. Asshole.
I swear we're not divas. We're actually the furthest thing from that. Most of the staff is pretty laidback and mild-mannered. Just don't piss them off. Cause quite frankly, whether you love them or hate them (myself included), we really could give a good god damn.
Title and first line from Lady Sovereign's "Love Me or Hate Me."
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Ready to Go
The running joke I have with Big Daddy is my transfer to "The Brothel." Big Daddy and Big Daddy Warbucks are working on opening a "Gentlemen's Club" in Florida. I decided I must manage it. I told him I'll work through Pride and then I expect my transfer papers on my desk that Monday. He just laughs. I'm so not kidding.
Then, Big Daddy said something about buying another club in Atlanta. Who? What? Oh, no Big Daddy. I am ready to go.
"Two clubs means twice the pay."
Oh, well when you put it in those terms, maybe I don't need that transfer. On second thought, perhaps I can do all three spots. I could put together a great floating team that would accompany me from venue to venue. It's kind of like a catering company. Well, sort of.
Nevermind, that's too complicated. A one way ticket to the Brothel, please.
Then, Big Daddy said something about buying another club in Atlanta. Who? What? Oh, no Big Daddy. I am ready to go.
"Two clubs means twice the pay."
Oh, well when you put it in those terms, maybe I don't need that transfer. On second thought, perhaps I can do all three spots. I could put together a great floating team that would accompany me from venue to venue. It's kind of like a catering company. Well, sort of.
Nevermind, that's too complicated. A one way ticket to the Brothel, please.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Everyone Knows I'm In Over My Head
It's eight seconds left in overtime...
On tap for this week:
Wednesday: Drag Survivor - Headbanger's Ball: Rock N' Roll Week
Thursday: College Boys Gone Wild - Randyblue.com Week
Friday: WETbar Cabaret - La Cage Atlanta Night - All Illusions
Saturday: LIQUIFIED presents SEB FONTAINE
And then, next week:
JP Calderon and Janice Dickinson
Robbie Rivera
What was I thinking? Ah well, no sleep for the wicked...
No, seriously, I can't sleep - been tossing and turning for the past hour.
Currently on the iPod rotation:
Oasis - Live Forever
Lauryn Hill - Ex-Factor
Shannon - Give Me Tonight
Tracey Thorn - Grand Canyon (damn you, Butler)
Pink - U and Ur Hand
Smashing Pumpkins - Disarm (damn you, Genre)
Tori Amos - Precious Things (inspired by Jordan Kennedy)
Coldplay - The Scientist
David Gray - Sail Away With Me
Res - They Say Vision (Robbie Rivera Mix)
Title and first line from the Fray's "Over My Head (Cable Car)."
On tap for this week:
Wednesday: Drag Survivor - Headbanger's Ball: Rock N' Roll Week
Thursday: College Boys Gone Wild - Randyblue.com Week
Friday: WETbar Cabaret - La Cage Atlanta Night - All Illusions
Saturday: LIQUIFIED presents SEB FONTAINE
And then, next week:
JP Calderon and Janice Dickinson
Robbie Rivera
What was I thinking? Ah well, no sleep for the wicked...
No, seriously, I can't sleep - been tossing and turning for the past hour.
Currently on the iPod rotation:
Oasis - Live Forever
Lauryn Hill - Ex-Factor
Shannon - Give Me Tonight
Tracey Thorn - Grand Canyon (damn you, Butler)
Pink - U and Ur Hand
Smashing Pumpkins - Disarm (damn you, Genre)
Tori Amos - Precious Things (inspired by Jordan Kennedy)
Coldplay - The Scientist
David Gray - Sail Away With Me
Res - They Say Vision (Robbie Rivera Mix)
Title and first line from the Fray's "Over My Head (Cable Car)."
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