April 2006

Things I Overhear

"I don't have any idea where to stick this plug in."

"You're Invited to a Private Party"

Below is the list of features in an ad I'm creating. What age range do you think this place is for?

Extreme Fun Zone
Separate Party Rooms
Indoor Climate Controlled Play Arena
Great Sound System
Huge Inflatables

Seduction By Stalking

So being in the performing arts field I'm used to people being a bit "ga-ga" over the whole talent/stage persona. People seem to think that being good in music is somehow more sacred and special than being good in business or in interpersonal interaction or whatever. Considering my line of work, it's not like my ego's going to complain about that twisted logic. Well, in this musical I've had one teen girl that's all like "you're so talented and funny and a lot of fun to work with..." All while batting her eyes and swooning. Ok, that's sweet. Whatever.

Well, enter teen boy... He's been going out of his way to be near me and it's getting really creepy. Yesterday I was sitting at the piano in the pit and he slides to the edge of the stage on his side, head propped up on his elbow, other hand on his hip and he says (are you ready for this?) "Play something for me Damon." After much internal deliberation and tremendous effort to stiffle an avalanche of sniggering, I crafted my response: "no." The unedited, internal version was something in the realm of things that are best not posted on a blog.

A More Satisfied Tomorrow

This alarm clock is purely orgasmic.

New Digs

I got moved into my new apartment this weekend and am really happy with it. The space is working much better than I had feared and it's very cute. I splurged on a really nice bed and it's amazing. In spite of my current stress and tendonitis pain, I'm getting some better sleep than I've gotten in awhile. This sleep investment is so going to pay off.

If you're in the mood for some cozy quarters, swing by and I'll show you my new pad. If you're really nice we might even have a slumber party with blanket forts and s'mores.

Mr. Bimble Lives in My Thumb

Good news. I had the bed put in my new apartment today and it didn't take up the entire kitchenette room. *leaps with joy* Actually, my trusty tape measure tells me there's going to be more space that I was fearing in the other room as well. My trusty tape measure also tells me that I should stop talking to it and get myself some real friends, but that's taking us off topic...

Welcome to My Box

I've found an apartment and start moving in this weekend. It's cute with laminant floors, fresh paint. It's in a duplex with front and back porches and a back yard. Nice and cute. The only ever so slight draw back of the place is that it's a tad bit on the small side. Not quite the nearly 2000 sq ft place in which I've been living. It's a studio apartment with two rooms, each 11'x11'. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that quite adds up to 2000 sq ft. Oh, and there's two stove top burners but no oven. And only a half-sized fridge.

I'll likely put my bed in the room with the kitchenette and my computer, piano keyboard, and chair in the front room. So I'll basically be living in a bedroomette and studyette. And cooking a hell of a lot of stir fries.

Am I crazy? Damn straight. Is it a budgetary decision? You better believe it. Well, that and it's a few blocks from my work, one block from the Thai restaurant (the most important consideration), month-to-month rent and it's just a short term plan as I'd like to move into the Bay Area this fall.

Now I just need to pick up a few incidentals. You know things like a bed, a tv, a chair, bedding, towels, silverware, and let's not forget TP. Fortunately Curt's willing to loan me whatever I need as I get myself set up. Still, for some odd reason the word "overwhelmed" is swimming through my brain this morning. Odd.

Things

Hello all. There are some changes on the horizon once again as Curt and I have decided to go our separate ways. There's been no juicy drama for me to share and this outcome didn't come out of lack of love or effort on either of our parts. Curt is an amazing person and we've been very amiable through this change. I'm so thankful for all that he's done for me and in no way regret the decisions I've made in the last year. Now I venture out to brave this grand state of California on my own. I wish all the best for Curt and if you ever say anything bad about him, I'll kick your ass. Nuff said.

Bitter, Party of One

So the new guy at work is gladly filling the unoffical role of supervisor for the graphics department. The only snag with that plan... he doesn't come in until 12noon. Guess who has to put out all the fires, problems, changes during the morning hours??

Showcase Your Assets

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is so photogenic.

<insert snarky title here>

Work's whooping my ass this week and I don't mean in the "spank me harder you hot stud of a man" sort of way. We're short 48 hours of staffing this week with a co-worker on vacation and that's in addition to being short-staffed anyway (heh, he said "short-staffed"). I came into work almost an hour and a half early today and have spent most of the morning putting out fires. Today we're running a two-for-one special at Grumpy-R-Us.

Contrition

I just came to my attention that some people have been hurt by a few things I've posted on my blog about them. I'm very sorry for that as that was never my intention and these people mean a lot to me. My blog has been a place to find a way to laugh at the craziness of life, a way to deal with life's little (and big) stresses through humor. With that sort of focus, I've certainly not shared all the positive feelings and experiences I've had with these and other friends. As you all know, I poke fun at myself on here as much as I do others, because, heck, I can be the most pathetic of all. During some of my more intense stressful life changes I've certainly ventured too far down the road of jaded sarcasm more than once. So I've removed the posts that caused hurt to these friends. If I've posted (or post in the future) anything about you that is hurtful, please let me know and I'll be happy to remove it. In the meanwhile, let's get back to our regularly scheduled program of insanity, drama and the adventure which you, my adoring fans, have come to know and love (or rather pretend to like based on your regularly scheduled bribes).

Jenzilla

Mom, Jennifer's eating my computer!

Deal Breakers

"It's not that you're unkind, it's that you're unimpressive."

Who Are You?

Vortex of Marketing

Casinos/hotels - or hotesinos because they are, in fact, one in the same - in Vegas have mastered the unique scientific feat of creating buildings without exits. Well, technically they have exits, but force fields fueled by raw marketing power continually repel you from those exits and increase in strength the harder you try to get to those exits. You can't get out. It's a scientific fact.

Curt and I tried to leave our hotesino to walk the area. We dutifully head toward the nearest "exit here" sign. 5 blocks later led by a trail of exit signs, through twists, turns and hoardes of shops, buffets and slot machines we found we had passed through our hotesino, across an overpass and into the next hotesino now one level higher with even less clue how to get out. In a panic we realized that the only "exits" we could find were emergency exits with huge warnings stating something like 'the world will end if you try to use this door.'

Finally we ditched the exit sign approach and headed for what seemed like the edge of the building on the lower floor. And I say "seemed" because buildings in Vegas don't operate on the same scientific principles as they do in the rest of the universe. There is exponentially more space inside each hotesino than the actual physical space it occupies. If you don't believe me... try to get out of one.

Another block or two of roulette, craps and buffets and we finally found the a sidewalk bathed in the dank, alcohol rich air of Vegas' great outdoors. The panic calmed and we set about our task of avoiding the multitude of drunks and "all girls, all live" pimps as we walked up "The Strip."

After we'd had our fill of blinking lights, video billboards and many other technical feats created with the express purpose of wasting money wantonly, we decided we were too tired to walk the entire way back to the hotesino. We headed for the huge sign on the front of another hotesino labeled "Tram to South Strip." This would drop us off a mere two blocks from our hotesino and the bed we were so ready to sleep in. We headed into this hotesino with the promise of a nice ride back because, apparently, we hadn't yet learned our lesson regarding the spacial anomaly that is a hotesino.

To reach the tram we traveled several blocks winding our way through shops, blackjack, drunks and a plethora of cigarette smoke before we even saw the first semblance of a tram. We could have been half way back to our hotesino by then. Once we got off the tram - in yet another hotesino not even remotely our own - we were fighting back anxiety attacks and determined to find the nearest exit even if we had to create it ourselves by chiseling our way through the floor with a rusty penny and a stick of gum.

We surprisingly found an exit right away only to discover that it fed into a busy street that bascially promised certain death. I have to admit that we contemplated that option long and hard before heading back into the fray.

Just when I was about to turn into a sobbing mess and succomb to my fate of being the eternal bitch of the hotesino buffet gods we turned a corner and came face to face with huge picture windows which deceptively made it feel that there was indeed a world outside of this glittering existence. Staring at the thing I wanted most in the world with only a thin invisible wall keeping it from me, I lost all grasp on sanity and things became a blur. I think Curt must have torn me away from licking that oversized glass barrier, hoisted me over his shoulder and jumped through it because somehow we ended up back at our hotesino.

I still have nightmares about being chased by hungry slot machines screaming "ALL LIVE! ALL THE TIME! ALL LIVE! ALL THE TIME!"

Bright Lights, Big City

- MGM Grand Hotel, Las Vegas

Whoop That Fat

"Tae Kwon Do
Self Defense Against Obesity!"

Five words: English as a second language.

Fame Isn't All That

I've said it time and time again: famous people don't get me all a flutter. They're just normal people and I'm going to wet myself to go see Cher or Angelina Jolie or, God forbid, the Backstreet Boys. So naturally I wasn't even the tiniest bit impressed that I got to see Harvey Fierstein Saturday night. Nope, not excited about that fact at all. Not even excited that he was reprising his role of Edna in the musical Hairspray, nor that I had front row seats to this production, nor that I flew to Vegas (my first time there) for the show, nor that all this was a monumentally amazing weekend surprise from Curt to celebrate my birthday. The musical was outrageously wonderful, Harvey was hysterical and the Asian fusion restaurant was excellent. But, come one, that's no reason to be all like "woo, woo, look at me in my big birthday-palooza of fun." Even the fact that my spa suite at the hotel got upgraded to something bigger than any apartment I've ever lived in didn't impress me. No "look at me living large like I'm a movie star." Nope, not for me. Cuz, you know, I'm more grounded than that. Yep. Not impressed with glitz, glam, fame... And I'm never one to name-drop. Man, I *hate* people who do that. Just because Dick Latessa and Susan Anton were mere feet away from my twitching right hand doesn't mean I'm going to be all like "I'm now so important you must keep ten paces behind me at all times." Of course, I'm pretty sure that if I had leaned forward far enough I could licked Harvey's left high heel...

Monk-e-mail

Out of the mind of a twisted blogger into the mouth of a rather hairy little hip hopper: word.