Snaps...

I totally have to give myself snaps for hooking up my friends Ad-Rock and the Ferg. I think they would be the perfect couple. I adore them both and they're both smart, personable and haaaawt. I get to plan the reception is all I'm saying. In Hawaii. Or London. All of my expenses must be paid by you two. That's all I'm sayin'.

UPDATE 07/05:
So, they finally met. And, Ferg who was very opinionated and talkative pre-Ad-Rock joining us for drinks, all of a sudden did a shut-the-fuck-up and couldn't do anything but smile and concentrate on the appetizers and his bellini. Uggh, my work is done. The rest is up to the chemistry gods.

WTF Was I Thinking?

So, yeah, months ago, I thought, the week after Pride is usually a ghost town in Midtown, let's book a liquified event and a Fetish party so we're guaranteed some revenue.

It's gonna be as busy as Pride. I'm hurting already - again.

Ferg, JD, E, slap me if I get ambitious again. Please.

(Sidebar: Thanks to the all powerful Tyler for sending positive thoughts to Atlanta for Pride; it really helped.)

Pride, Done.

It's over. Every year I look forward to Pride and every year I am over it by Saturday. This year was exceptionally busy and successful, not to mention chockful of stress. I won't get into any drawn out tirades because quite frankly, at this point, it's already done.

I love the staff at WETbar, they completely rallied when it was crunch time and handled themselves beyond expectation. Thanks guys, your hard work did not go unnoticed.

My LA family represented this weekend; to Patti, Andrew, JP and now the limey bastard Jules (technically he's from O-Town) I love you guys and thanks for being my cheering section when I could barely keep my eyes open.

To my divas Debby and Kristine, you two are my inspiration - hands down, "We Are Family" (dubbed the K & D remix by the staff) was the highlight of my Pride and I'm quite sure over 1200 other people's highlight as well. You two never cease to amaze me and I'm delighted to work with you over and over.

To Miss Deborah, always cool as a cucumber, always throwing it down like it ain't no one's business. You come in, do your warm up, turn the stage upside down and hit it right out the door. And, you know what? I ain't mad at ya'. You know why? Cause you gots da' hits. And, you did "Mr. Lonely." Yeah, that's my favorite Deborah song of all time. You did my second favorite too - "Things Just Ain't The Same."

Funny moment: There I was in the dj booth with Kio, Bill, Aimee, JN (the Managing Partner), LF (the owner) and several of their buddies. Deborah sings the first verse of "Mr. Lonely" and I have a moment. Not being able to restrain myself, i scream out "Work it out, bitch - you ain't sangin'!" Lee and james look at me with big ass smiles and I shrug and go back to dancing around with Bill. Ok, so not my most professional moment, but at least I'm passionate.

To my boys, Kio and Phil B. I couldn't have any one else behind my tables for the biggest weekend of the year. No worries, yeah? More table time is coming up for you two - no more extended performances I promise.

Finally, to my ATL family, JD, the Ferg, the Clanton, DJ Kim Crawford, Bill Berdeaux, Aimee ("I'm fucking invisible"), the rock EBS, Morganza; I truly would not have made it through those six days without you guys. Thanks for EVERYTHING. No, seriously. "You don't leave, 'less I leave; you don't jump, 'less I jump. You know how we do..."

All right kids, let's get geared up for the Anniversary.

DEJA VU

So, my friend Margaret was trying to get me to create a new "Pride Guide" like I did last year. Umm, well here's the thing - that Pride Guide was something I had written two years previous and because I was so busy last year, I just threw it on me blog until I had something to write that was fresh and new.

Yeah, hope springs eternal. So, in its entirety, the repost of a post that was a column from two years before that. Uh, yeah, it's still fucking funny damnit.


Pride Guide

It's here. It's fucking here! Pride truly is my favorite time of the year. A lot of work has gone into some of this year's nightlife productions so I hope you fickle fags like what we came up with. I was racing against time and had to rehash some stuff I had written in previous years with a contemporary twist. And, damnit, I'm a funny motherfucker sometimes.

At any rate, here's one of the Guest List/Fast Tracks from years past. It's funny how my advice still holds true today. Damn, I'm good.

PARK AREA GUIDELINES

Contrary to popular belief "The Bath House & Pool" you find on the Pride Map is NOT sponsored by a Membership Only Club. You will get arrested for those activities and all of your friends will laugh at you.

The same men you find in classifieds do NOT run the Massage Center found on the Pride Map. All personnel found at the Massage Center are professionals, have faces and do not announce their stats. We ask that you DO NOT bid on the personnel. You can not get a massage with full release.

The Operations Center is not there so you can get sex changes, penal implants, face-lifts, or wrinkles removed. And, no, your insurance will not cover it.

Scuba diving and skinny-dipping in Lake Clara Meer is NOT encouraged and is actually frowned upon. We will not be held responsible for any strange fungus growing out of any orifice as the result of these activities.

Religious Zealots: These people are there EVERY year. Remember, nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd; follow your mom’s sage like advice and ignore them. Getting suckered into a debate is just a waste of time. Think about it: Nothing you say will make them change their minds and put down their “God Hates Fags” signs.

***The best and easiest way to get under their skin is to have a photo shoot right next to them. Be sure to put on the cheesiest possible grin and then post the pics on the net. Even better, e-mail it on over to the Church they represent. (2006 Update: Post it on your blog or on your MySpace profile too!) Good times.


PARK FASHION FAUX PAS


If you have piercings and insist on showing them off, please remember that metal does get hot in the sun. Scarring may occur and let's face it, how attractive is that?

It may look cute when you have it on, but please consider humidity and heat as factors when deciding on your ensemble. We highly recommend reassessing your outfit if it includes any of the following materials: vinyl, velour, fur (real or faux)

Color coordinating your outfit with the frosty beverage you have in your hand is always fun. So when you're up at the Beer & Beverage kiosk, please note what you have on.

If you must incorporate a rainbow flag into your ensemble, we recommend bringing extra twine, duct tape, and/or super glue in case of those messy emergencies

In the words of Absolutely Fabulous vixen, Patsy Stone: Beware of wigs.

PARADE BEHAVIOR

Please be courteous of other hecklers during the Parade. Witty commentary does not have the same punch if repeated several times by different people.

Please be courteous of hangovers during the Parade. Bring enough aspirin for people within a five-foot radius.


Fighting for the free giveaways from each float is not necessary. There is plenty of lube and condoms available at local free clinics.


FOOD & BEVERAGE

For those of you that insist on bringing your own food to the Festival, we have provided a Safety List of things you should probably leave at home.

Sushi, Anything with mayonnaise, Jell-O, Crawfish, Sardines, Anchovies, Chitlins ,Brie, Fondue, Soufflé, Pickled Pig's Feet, Oysters on the half-shell, Pimento Cheese, Caviar and Toast Points


MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS

For your convenience, we've also created a checklist of miscellaneous items you should bring with you to the Park.

Cell phone-communication is key
Sun block-eliminate premature wrinkling
Pen & Paper-be prepared, anticipate collecting phone numbers
Sun glasses-cruise without being caught while filtering out those harmful UV rays
Deodorant and/or perfume/cologne-self explanatory
Mints and/or chewing gum-also self explanatory
Designated Driver-safety first
Contingency Code Words-assign words for use in case of emergency, this way your buddy can pull you out of messy situations. (Example: "Have you seen Phoenix?" really means "Get me away from fag.")

Everyone up to speed?

Good. I hope everyone has a wonderful Pride. Please remember to be safe from crossing the street (look both ways) to driving drunk (call a cab) to your tricks (wrap it up). I'll try to post throughout the weekend, but we all know that's probably not going to happen.

Please Forgive Me

"If I act a little strange; For I know not what I do..."

Dear Ferg and Tyler and anyone else it applies to,

Please forgive me for:
-being too sassy/bitchy
-being unavailable
-being moody
-sucking at follow through as of late
-and anything else that is out of character

I heart you.
Arman

Title and first line swiped from David Gray's "Please Forgive Me."

I Used To Think This Day Would Never Come

"I feel so extraordinary / Something's got a hold on me / I get this feeling I'm in motion / A sudden sense of liberty..."

It's here! It's f'n here! It's Pride Week and I've got too much shit to do to be fuckin' with y'all.

At any rate, I had a really good decompression last night with da' boyz. Me, E, C and JD drank the house down and played pool at Amsterdam for a few hours. No drama, lots of shit talking and plenty of mini-bombs. Damnit, I needed that.

And, now it's time to "make it work."

Title and first line from New Order's "True Faith."

Are we there yet?

Pride is whooping my ass.

I had an interesting business opportunity come my way. Color me interested.

Details forthcoming.

Spent the Day...

So, I was at the club for 12 hours yesterday. I got there at 4pm to let Ash in so she can paint. Yeah, how about some of the HSL pageant contestants and committee were pulling up just as we got there.

We made it through the pageant with few fires to put out and then hosted Alex Lauterstein. Whoa, we weren't expecting the explosion of people that jampacked the club around 12:30.

The vibe was great and we had an overall fantastic night. I ended up getting out of there around 4:15am. Now, when people say they "they spent the day" doing this or that, I just think about what an exaggeration it is. I literally spent the day at the club. Yeah, I don't care if the place catches on fire right now, I'm so not going anywhere near there until Tuesday.

I'm in pain. The bags under my eyes are in pain. Wow, if this was a test for Pride, I just failed miserably.

Curse Missed Opportunities...

Am I a part of the cure or a part of the disease?

So, attention to detail must always be paid, but I've been fucking up recently. There, I said it. Recent events have made me off my mark a bit. Now, I'm not one of those fuckers that doesn't own up to their responsibility when they do something wrong; some times I actually enjoy calling myself out.

Now, here i am trying to make sure Pride Weekend goes off without a hitch. I don't want a single fucking ripple. So far, so good right? Umm Mary, get your fucking act together, you have two events booked for the Friday AFTER Pride. Huh? How the hell did that happen?

Yeah, a slight oversight. On one hand we have the makeup date to a previously contracted event and on the other, we have a night that is a part of a bigger whole in which the club is booked for the main event. Umm, my bad.

Does anyone see the irony in this aside from me? By all accounts, the weekend after Pride should make the Club a complete ghost town. I mean, all of Midtown might as well be closed. And, here we have two large scale events dueling it out for the aftermath weekend.

(Scratches head.)

(Blink, blink.)

Maybe Big Daddy was right, perhaps I'm too efficient at my job.

Title and first line lifted from Coldplay's "Clocks."

My Water Broke...

So anyone that knows me knows I've been obsessing over Pride Weekend this year. Hell, I've been working on this fucker since November of last year. Well, if Pride Weekend is my baby, then my water just broke. We're fourteen days away - FOURTEEN! There's still so much to do, so much to arrange! Where is my windmill?

At any rate, here's our final teaser before we roll out the "real" campaign. It's sharp, no? Looking at it objectively, I do have to say it's a pretty damn good lineup. It would have been me swan song so to speak if Paul Oakenfold and Danny Tenaglia were on it.

I ain't done having babies yet.

I'll Be Damned...

So, last night, one of the city's most reputable promoters paid me quite the compliment. He said "your pride lineup is amazing." I never thought I'd hear him pay another club / promoter / bar that kind of kudos. I was kind of shocked, still am really. Thanks BC, I'm honored. And no, we're not competition. We're simply throwing events on the same night.

18 Days and Counting

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.

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)

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.

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.

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.

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

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'"

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.

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."