Click, Click, Click

I know it’s the weather outside and/or the possible brownout caused by everyone having their air-conditioning on maximum settings thanks to the oppressive heat, but my power keeps going in and out, in and out, in and out.

Nah, it simply can not be that easy. I decided it must be some elf, goblin, or other magical creature that thought it would be funny to play with the powerstrip my apartment is plugged into.

I love the fact that my laptop, iPod and Blackberry are fully charged and I can sit here, for the time being, jamming out to music, check my e-mail and bitch to friends via text message. What kind of sense is that?

Neat.

Anti-Depressant

All right, so I got to meet one of my favorite authors a little over a year ago. Augusten Burroughs was on a book tour promoting his, then, new book Possible Side Effects.

Yeah, so I'm just now getting around to reading it and I swear to God, it's the funniest fucking book. Ever. The man is probably one of the best story-tellers of modern times.

It is seriously the best anti-depressant since AbFab.

Validation

Ok, so those of you that know me know I can put some people up on the proverbial pedestal. Now, while most of the time I could give a shit what people say/think about me; I do appreciate a compliment now and again.

Well, one of the people whom I have an enormous amount of respect and allegiance to is nightlife guru Bill Kaelin. I consider him a mentor of sorts as he taught me so much about working in nightlife and the smoke and mirrors of PR and marketing.

Mr. Bill called me today just to tell me how impressive he found WETbar's turnaround since applying my makeover to it. Truth is that it was a team effort and the crew as a whole deserves kudos, but the compliment was an ego-boost. I kinda needed it.

To be completely honest, in my professional resume, WETbar would be one of my proudest achievements. It was just a nice validation, ya' know?

Aww, That's Nice

Have you ever had one of those perfect weekends where the birds are chirping, you don't run late, everyone seems to be agreeable, the weather is tolerable and the casualites are at a bare minimum?

Well, I never do.

Everyone's timing is usually off, people can't help but to outquip each other and SOMEONE is always passive/aggressive (ahem, Ferg).

Well, this past weekend was practically perfect in every way. Ferg was back from London and the boys all met up to catch the first of Kathy Griffin's two sold out back-to-back shows at the Fox. My only complaint was the asshole behind us who seemed to feel it was his job to repeat every one of Kathy's punchlines, except in an annoying, high pitched delivery. His cologne was rotted too.

Saturday marked the arrival of Veronica and Chad Jack back to Atlanta. I heart both of them. They're both really cool, talented people and knocked it right outta the park on Saturday night. I mean, really though Veronica did the ten minute extended mix of "Someone to Hold" and had the boys eating out of the palm of her hand. Her husband is really f'n cool too, btw.

Sunday was very laid back and unproductive. I ordered delivery twice, watched my favorite movies over and got even more acquainted with the Arman-shaped dent in the couch.

Like I said, practically perfect in every way.

Are we on COPS again?

So, the big K calls me earlier and asks if I'm near the club. I was at home, which is maybe five blocks away.

"Yup, what's going on?"

The alarm had been tripped. She suspected E was down there doing his liquor counts and perhaps set it to "Alarm Occupied," which pretty much means that there are people in the building but if someone tries to come in, they set it off. However, she couldn't get E on the phone so she would feel better if someone went down there to take a look around. The police had already been dispatched and they would meet me there.

I get to the club within minutes and see the officer outside. He checks with our security company to make sure I was on the safe list. We walk in the club and it's completely trashed.

"Yeah, you've been broken into."

I smile at him and tell him, no, that the cleaning crew doesn't come in until Monday and that the club looks exactly how we left it last night.

Everything seemed in order and we went outside to the water garden where the alarm was triggered. Sure enough, some crackhead was sound asleep on one of the couches. He tells me it "might get ugly."

I smile again, like I don't see crackheads thrown out of the club on a nightly basis. Hell, Mr. Officer even had his black gloves on - as B-Mack (our head of security) had told me when he first started "the gloves come on when shit is about to pop off."

Mr. Officer wakes up the crackhead intruder and demands what he's doing there. The crackhead says "I was sleeping, why you bothering me?"

Let's see, cause you broke into the property, triggered the alarm, had our security company call the authorities and alert management that the property had got broken into? Take your pick, all of them apply.

At this point Mr. Officer and I are extremely annoyed. C'mon now, seriously? Mr. Officer goes off and tells him he broke into the property which the crackhead argues "it's not like I went into the club and I know it's a club for white caucasians."

Umm, white caucasians?

At this point, I can't help myself.

"Do I look fucking white to you, asshole?"

He just glares at me. At this point though, he's in handcuffs and I'm, well, I'm entertained.

Mr. Officer throws the crackhead into the back of the car and then asks me for my information which I gladly give him.

Call anytime. No, seriously. Anytime.

I do a quick looksy around the club for good measure and set the alarm again. I check the R-Berry and see that both K and E had sent text messages.

E: "Cuff 'em."

K: "Press charges."

Way ahead of you kids. If I had to leave the comfort of my home on a Sunday against my will, someone is going downtown.

Conflicted

Say it with me, class. I'm conflicted. Again. So, today has been pretty interesting - I've gotten a lot of work/laundry done waiting on a package that never arrived, but you can't cry over spilled porn. (Long story and before any of y'all start - it's for work, no seriously. Hello, Thursday night is porn night - ahh, now you get it. Moving on...)

So, Ferg may not be moving to London. Part of me is jumping up and down with glee, yet part of me is sad for him because it's something he truly wanted. That same sad part is also gloomy because Tyler could use some "back home" love. See my confliction? I couldn't imagine what he's going through, but I will be there to happily fulfill my obligatory duties as his friend to kick back some shots and watch as he plays pool with the finesse of a sledgehammer.

I'm also pretty conflicted about other things. I'm second guessing some things right now and wondering if I made the right decisions. Yeah, that's the downside of being a Pisces - you analyze everything from every direction. Over and over. And then, you feel guilty about it. Or sad. Or happy. Or indifferent. But, hardly ever happy or enthusiastic.

Yeah, it's the word of the day and it seems to be spreading. Rapidly.

Uggh, not good.

Dear London,

Please stop taking away my friends.

Thanks,
Arman

Settle down, Sister

It seems E has been saying that to me a lot lately. I dunno what's wrong with me - maybe it's the full moon. While some people may be able to conceal their anguish, anxiety or aggravation, I'm the exact opposite. My face is so expressive that it gives me away every time. And, lately, it's been a look of being near volatile.

I'm hoping it's just stress related especially with ol' Bessy in the shop again and needing major repairs done and overall work stuff. All that is temporary though and relatively easy to manage, so hopefully it is just the full moon. I mean it does influence the tide and shit so it just may have an effect on emotions too. Well, that's the story and I'm sticking to it. Hmm, that is unless this funk continues.