So, March has come and gone in like a tortoise and out like a cheetah. What the fuck? How in the hell did I lose 31 days? I sort of remember my birthday - yeah, let's talk about Billie Myers singing "Happy Birthday" Marilyn Monroe style to me on WETbar's stage. I was petrified. Not this mega talented pop star (with a fucking number one on Billboard to boot) was singing to me, on bended knee. Umm, huh? Is this f'real happening? Yeah, people have pictures - or evidence - of it all.
Luckily, April looks to be a little bit more tame than March, Lord knows I about killed the staff with all the shit I planned. It seems the hard work is paying off as the club has shown that it has the potential to make money. Yay for job security.
I am also pleased to say that my two mentors - Brad Williams and Bill Kaelin have called to tell me that they're proud of me and they support everything I'm doing. This has been an unsettling source of stress for months now. It's not that I needed their validation, but truthfully no job is worth these two looking negatively upon me. After all, I wouldn't have the career I'm enjoying now without the guidance of these two dapper gentlemen.
Socially, I feel like I only have time to hang with folks during work hours. It's kind of a shame considering my career used to be based on how many different establishments I can hit in a single weekend. I'm not really complaining considering I adore everyone I work with - well, almost everyone there are two that i would have no qualms assasinating. But, that's another blog for another day. For now, I'm hitting the couch for some serious remote control fondling.
Oh, before I forget, a few words for the nearest and dearest:
Tyler, you're coming for Pride, girl. Watch and see - I need you here.
Fergie, you're the jam, you know that right?
JD, Thanks for being such a good homicidal friend - you've taught me how to authoratatively hold my ground, death threats withstanding.
Selman, thanks for popping in; I didn't realize how much I missed ya' until you unexpectedly crashed Oakenfold. I'm almost over being bitter at ya.
Kimbus Crawfordus, Genre, Bianca and Ash - thanks for keeping me sane and being there during crunch time.
Krystee and Big Daddy, quit stressing me the fuck out.
That's all.
3 comments:
I think I'm more marmalade than jam. If I were a jam, I'd be raspberry.
Girl, your club talk throws me off. Jam, Fluff, Fold, Starch! Honey, what is this? Sounds like breakfast got out of hand and I had to take it all to the cleaners!
Talking of taking things to the cleaners, what is going on with JD and why doesn't "Over the Counter" have a Blog yet?
My ass is worn out!
I'll be there with bells on... Atlanta needs a little London flare.
*love*love*love*
no hate.
miss you, boy.
congrats on all your hard-won success.
thanks for the hugs and stuff on your b'day weekend.
let's do it again soon?
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