I’m stashed next to one of the cages, as far from the MGM Grand as you can get and still be in their parking lot. It’s mayhem. Fight night is the worst time to come down here, ever, but with two carpets to work tonight, here we are. I’ve seen the same security guard twice; he hasn’t seen me. And I’m about spitting distance from the exit, so around 2am when we leave, it should be a breeze.
Honey saved me one of those Dove wrappers with a cute saying on it that pretty much sums up my life. It says “it’s okay to live without a ‘big picture’ in mind”. And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, the simplest explanation for my crazy life. I haven’t really got an over all plan. I’ve mentioned before how well planning works for me. Planning might be considered overrated if it weren’t so wrapped up with dreaming. I want many things while I’m here, but I wouldn’t consider any of it part of a cohesive plan – my stuff is all too random and contradictory.
***Minion in fluorescent just rode by on a bike two cars over from me. Holding breath and cursing softly…so far so good. With this many people, this place is crawling.
I wish I could sleep, but these seats don’t recline far enough. I tried the backseat one time, since the tint is darker back there, but it was awful. Nothing worse than waking up sore and cranky, more tired than when you started. With two carpets in a row and these diva UFC fighters taking an hour stroll through, I could easily be here until 2am. It’s gonna be a long night. This would go so much faster if I could surf the web…
Pre-Fight Night
I just walked thru the MGM Grand, amongst all the plastic, mini dresses, and stiletto heels, to deliver Honey’s forgotten phone wearing no bra, pajamas, and Honey’s spare tennis shoes. Am I a rock star or what? I have got to start wearing clothes to these things! Random inconvenient shit keeps happening.
My mind has been on a rollercoaster the last few days. I’ve decided I want a camel; you know, to ride around the neighborhood the way most people do horses. Her name will be Jezebel. I read an article on building a self-sufficient homestead; the house had walls 12” thick made from clay and straw, was in the middle of Amish country, and had no electricity (well, solar panels - and I'm not the Summer referenced). It all sounds awesome and a bit hokey/extreme…unless you watched the movie The Road recently and can definitely see the bennies of being in the middle of nowhere and not needing anyone (think cannibalism). People can be freaking scary.
I met a guy who used HCG for weight loss – like 40 lbs in a month weight loss – and as awesome as that sounds (you know me, the one who wants everything right now), I more than likely can’t afford it. If you get the doctor’s personal cell phone number to call anytime, assume you’ll be paying thru the nose for it. I’ll just have to settle for my P90x and getting my eating habits together.
Oh, and I knocked a giant bottle of Red Hot out of the pantry today, nearly on my foot, and though I’ve cleaned up, vacuumed, and mopped the entire downstairs, there are still glass fragments as far away as the backdoor. If you see glittery little diamonds anywhere, don’t step on them.
And we shot a custom Merc today for the next cover of Sunday Slacker. Since I can’t show the pictures as of yet, just trust me that it is an over the top work of art and very beautiful.
*sigh* I’m tired. It’s hot. I have to work tomorrow and straight thru the Memorial weekend. Penalties of retail I guess – we get to be closed 3 days out of the whole year – because I am absolutely sure that instead of barbequing and having fun with your friends, who are all off on Monday, you’d rather dash out and buy a lamp from me. I predict crickets singing the whole day. Or, they may in fact be barbequing with their friends too…I may bring my book of DVD’s to the shop that day.
My mind has been on a rollercoaster the last few days. I’ve decided I want a camel; you know, to ride around the neighborhood the way most people do horses. Her name will be Jezebel. I read an article on building a self-sufficient homestead; the house had walls 12” thick made from clay and straw, was in the middle of Amish country, and had no electricity (well, solar panels - and I'm not the Summer referenced). It all sounds awesome and a bit hokey/extreme…unless you watched the movie The Road recently and can definitely see the bennies of being in the middle of nowhere and not needing anyone (think cannibalism). People can be freaking scary.
I met a guy who used HCG for weight loss – like 40 lbs in a month weight loss – and as awesome as that sounds (you know me, the one who wants everything right now), I more than likely can’t afford it. If you get the doctor’s personal cell phone number to call anytime, assume you’ll be paying thru the nose for it. I’ll just have to settle for my P90x and getting my eating habits together.
Oh, and I knocked a giant bottle of Red Hot out of the pantry today, nearly on my foot, and though I’ve cleaned up, vacuumed, and mopped the entire downstairs, there are still glass fragments as far away as the backdoor. If you see glittery little diamonds anywhere, don’t step on them.
And we shot a custom Merc today for the next cover of Sunday Slacker. Since I can’t show the pictures as of yet, just trust me that it is an over the top work of art and very beautiful.
*sigh* I’m tired. It’s hot. I have to work tomorrow and straight thru the Memorial weekend. Penalties of retail I guess – we get to be closed 3 days out of the whole year – because I am absolutely sure that instead of barbequing and having fun with your friends, who are all off on Monday, you’d rather dash out and buy a lamp from me. I predict crickets singing the whole day. Or, they may in fact be barbequing with their friends too…I may bring my book of DVD’s to the shop that day.
Me and Death
What would you regret if you died tomorrow?
It was after 11pm when I was asked that question. Tomorrow was so close. My heart spoke up in a voice clear enough to cut through all other bullshit, like a giant bell silencing all other sound and forcing itself on your senses. Tears began to well. Surprisingly there was no concern for my life's accomplishments or lack there of; what I'd done or hadn't done didn't matter. That from a worldy perspective my life thus far has been an utter waste, mediocre at best...none of it mattered. What surfaced was a sadness. Life is a beautiful gift and I've spent mine being the worst enemy to myself that I've ever seen. My attitude is self-defeating, negative in the extreme, and constantly pouring bitterness in my ear - but it's only about me and only towards me. I'm hell-bent on defeating my own happiness, which is more sad than I can express in words. And the thought of having to asnwer to someone (or thing) about it...to be asked directly with no means of escape "why would you destroy your birth right of happiness? Why would you fight your natural state and by choice be miserable your whole existance?" Not only do I not have an asnwer of any kind that would suffice (because there is none), I feel like a sorry excuse and a failure. I feel stupid.
The advise I was given, with the preface of it being for someone 'like me', was to get comfortable with death. Because then I would understand just how short life really is and wouldn't waste another second on self-pity or anything else. I picture myself in a little coffee shop, similar to the Java Jungle in Reno, sharing a table in the corner with Death and us getting to know each other. It's not my time yet, but we're sharing our perspectives like college intellectuals, sipping coffee, and watching the people dash about their busy lives. I imagine us becoming friends, an understanding being established, so that when my time does come it'll be a reunion with an old friend I haven't seen in a long time. A joyous occasion.
That's how I plan to get past my many issues with me and learn to live the life I was meant to.
It was after 11pm when I was asked that question. Tomorrow was so close. My heart spoke up in a voice clear enough to cut through all other bullshit, like a giant bell silencing all other sound and forcing itself on your senses. Tears began to well. Surprisingly there was no concern for my life's accomplishments or lack there of; what I'd done or hadn't done didn't matter. That from a worldy perspective my life thus far has been an utter waste, mediocre at best...none of it mattered. What surfaced was a sadness. Life is a beautiful gift and I've spent mine being the worst enemy to myself that I've ever seen. My attitude is self-defeating, negative in the extreme, and constantly pouring bitterness in my ear - but it's only about me and only towards me. I'm hell-bent on defeating my own happiness, which is more sad than I can express in words. And the thought of having to asnwer to someone (or thing) about it...to be asked directly with no means of escape "why would you destroy your birth right of happiness? Why would you fight your natural state and by choice be miserable your whole existance?" Not only do I not have an asnwer of any kind that would suffice (because there is none), I feel like a sorry excuse and a failure. I feel stupid.
The advise I was given, with the preface of it being for someone 'like me', was to get comfortable with death. Because then I would understand just how short life really is and wouldn't waste another second on self-pity or anything else. I picture myself in a little coffee shop, similar to the Java Jungle in Reno, sharing a table in the corner with Death and us getting to know each other. It's not my time yet, but we're sharing our perspectives like college intellectuals, sipping coffee, and watching the people dash about their busy lives. I imagine us becoming friends, an understanding being established, so that when my time does come it'll be a reunion with an old friend I haven't seen in a long time. A joyous occasion.
That's how I plan to get past my many issues with me and learn to live the life I was meant to.
Possum Living
When I left for this gig I had keys in one hand and a bra in the other. I only put on pants cuz this is the only garage I’ve ever been kicked out of, and I was lucky enough that time to be wearing clothes – I’d hate to have a repeat in my pajamas.
Right before we left I was reading a book excerpt – I wish I had it for reference cuz I’m not sure I’ve got the title right – it was called Possum Living, How to Live Well Without a Job and (Almost) No Money. Honey was not surprised when I exclaimed “I want this book!” Anyone who knows me wouldn’t be surprised either: I’m part hippie, part hillbilly. And ironically, it ties right into the discussion we were having earlier about how some people need stuff and some people don’t. Mom needs stuff. She has almost an OCD need for stuff, even if she already has one (or two) of whatever it is and it will live in the darkness of some closet or cupboard. I don’t need stuff. I so don’t need stuff that I’m working on having even less of it. Possibly because I was raised poor, though I didn’t know it, and the only sets in our house were Mom’s china and their bedroom set, which I think they bought when they got married. Everything we had was mismatched and a yard sale find or hand-me-down. Not to mention I lost a storage unit once with everything I loved (I still cry about my blender), and now it’s all seen as material luggage. Can you imagine my delight in an instructional manual for living without a job and hardly any cash? It also might have something to do with the mention of skinning rabbits and homemade moonshine. Don’t make that face! Rabbits is good eating.
Uh oh. I see a flashing yellow light. The minions are close. I wish the backseats would recline so I could hide where the tint is darker. Even though I found a space on the main floor (never happened before) it’s busy in here tonight. The sign said levels 2 and 4 were full. Fingers crossed everybody.
Among my obsession with Avatar, my fascination with Farm Girl, my enthusiasm for A Year in a Car, and now possum living…there may be home grown potatoes and overalls in my future. Nothing appeals to me more than simplifying my life down to the bare essentials. I want to live well – and I realize for many that statement and the one before are mutually exclusive. Maybe I should say I want to live cheap and therefore well. I want a home of my own, but not a big expensive sinkhole of a house. I want to travel, but not first class, not even economy class. I want my ideals in life, not necessarily all the luxuries in between. Possum Living made reference to Diogenes, who famously gave away all his possessions, lived in a wine barrel, and ran in the same circles as the highest of society. The paradox is fascinating, don’t you think? Have nothing and have the rich and worldly jockeying for position next to you. I would like to be the champion not only of “have not” but also “want not”. Don’t get me wrong – yesterday’s post with all the fire of wanting my own business and taking over the world didn’t suddenly vanish. I like the choice of working for myself or not at all; it appeals to my teenage inner-rebel screaming “fuck the system!” Not only that, but a certain part of me hopes we screw ourselves back to the Stone Age. Ok, maybe not that far. I don’t wanna say “oog” and be dragged around by my hair. I’m not sure how to express what would be a happy balance –
…About here is when Honey got done, I got distracted, and we went to the bar to see some friends before they spend 3 weeks in Hawaii. Very glad I brought the bra…
Right before we left I was reading a book excerpt – I wish I had it for reference cuz I’m not sure I’ve got the title right – it was called Possum Living, How to Live Well Without a Job and (Almost) No Money. Honey was not surprised when I exclaimed “I want this book!” Anyone who knows me wouldn’t be surprised either: I’m part hippie, part hillbilly. And ironically, it ties right into the discussion we were having earlier about how some people need stuff and some people don’t. Mom needs stuff. She has almost an OCD need for stuff, even if she already has one (or two) of whatever it is and it will live in the darkness of some closet or cupboard. I don’t need stuff. I so don’t need stuff that I’m working on having even less of it. Possibly because I was raised poor, though I didn’t know it, and the only sets in our house were Mom’s china and their bedroom set, which I think they bought when they got married. Everything we had was mismatched and a yard sale find or hand-me-down. Not to mention I lost a storage unit once with everything I loved (I still cry about my blender), and now it’s all seen as material luggage. Can you imagine my delight in an instructional manual for living without a job and hardly any cash? It also might have something to do with the mention of skinning rabbits and homemade moonshine. Don’t make that face! Rabbits is good eating.
Uh oh. I see a flashing yellow light. The minions are close. I wish the backseats would recline so I could hide where the tint is darker. Even though I found a space on the main floor (never happened before) it’s busy in here tonight. The sign said levels 2 and 4 were full. Fingers crossed everybody.
Among my obsession with Avatar, my fascination with Farm Girl, my enthusiasm for A Year in a Car, and now possum living…there may be home grown potatoes and overalls in my future. Nothing appeals to me more than simplifying my life down to the bare essentials. I want to live well – and I realize for many that statement and the one before are mutually exclusive. Maybe I should say I want to live cheap and therefore well. I want a home of my own, but not a big expensive sinkhole of a house. I want to travel, but not first class, not even economy class. I want my ideals in life, not necessarily all the luxuries in between. Possum Living made reference to Diogenes, who famously gave away all his possessions, lived in a wine barrel, and ran in the same circles as the highest of society. The paradox is fascinating, don’t you think? Have nothing and have the rich and worldly jockeying for position next to you. I would like to be the champion not only of “have not” but also “want not”. Don’t get me wrong – yesterday’s post with all the fire of wanting my own business and taking over the world didn’t suddenly vanish. I like the choice of working for myself or not at all; it appeals to my teenage inner-rebel screaming “fuck the system!” Not only that, but a certain part of me hopes we screw ourselves back to the Stone Age. Ok, maybe not that far. I don’t wanna say “oog” and be dragged around by my hair. I’m not sure how to express what would be a happy balance –
…About here is when Honey got done, I got distracted, and we went to the bar to see some friends before they spend 3 weeks in Hawaii. Very glad I brought the bra…
Recovery is Slow
It’s been a rough couple of weeks… Honey threw his back out pretty bad – he called me from the patio floor, half laughing half crying, saying he couldn’t get up. He lived on the living room floor for nearly a week and has been slowing progressing back to health via crutches, his dad’s old cane, lots of pain meds, stretching, and liberal sessions with my chiropractor’s tens unit. Needless to say, that whole ordeal was pretty stressful for me. And of course, with all the wind we’ve been having my allergies got outta hand and became a head cold that I’ve been fighting for the last two weeks. Note: no days off and basically no rest, especially while my hubby couldn’t move. I think my nose has scabs in it. So this is the first sign of energy and opportunity I’ve had to blog. And once again, I’m stealth parking in a hotel garage.
Earlier today was a trial of my good manners and patience because it took 5 hours to purchase my new laptop, which I am not currently typing on because it doesn’t have a word processor yet. Mom bought my old desktop so the new one, which is exactly the same as this one, only cost me $150. Can you see me smiling? Nothing better than getting a steal of a deal and streamlining efficiency – for those that don’t know, my old desktop has been having some issues: there’s speculation that it was inherently male when I bought it and inadvertently got a female replacement hard drive, which I’m sure everyone can understand, must be very confusing. My new one, named Monkey, is fast as lighting and sporting Windows 7, which thankfully isn’t quite as annoying as Windows Vista (don’t even get me started!).
That’s really the only big news. I’ve realized that my life isn’t that exciting, on the outside anyway; inside my head is a circus/nightmare/fairy tale/laboratory of sorts. Come to think of it, I should blog about some of the crazy dreams I have….this girl does not need acid, that’s for sure.
Just as a side note, I love to watch people wandering about looking for their cars. Two older ladies in ridiculously tight clothing were over by me and found their car two rows over in a corner. And just now this European guy was looking in the window of the Jeep in front of me and checking the license plate – I say European because no one else wears plaid shorts, the shirt collars turned up like Elvis, and sports bleached spiky hair all at once, or it’s more likely I know jack squat about fashion, he’s fabulous and I look like a bum. As you like it. I just try to not make any sudden movements – the last thing I need is someone getting startled and screaming bloody murder for security.
OH! Life isn’t quite as boring, and how could I forget already? I went to the Hospitality Design Expo yesterday with my crazy Canadian friend. LOVED IT! I now remember why I owe the government so much money, everything I love about design, and my plans to take over the world one décor at a time. Honey said my text messages had fire in them. Needless to say, my brain is now swirling with all sorts of plans on establishing my brand, settling on a name, marketing…and to be honest, I’m really hoping God is listening when I beg for certain ventures to pan out and launch me, catapult style, into the design world on my terms. And as corny as it may sound to anyone who’s not superstitious or what have you, I’m going to use the possibility of the world ending in 2012 as an excuse to do some very crazy, risky, and otherwise nonsensical things. If it goes right, Ill be basking in the success and my own prowess as a designer; if it does wrong, I’ll probably be picking up the pieces and have to settle, at least temporarily, with the comfort that I gave it everything I had. Really the only thing more tragic than failure is never trying at all….which is where I’m currently sitting. Reality check and ouch, already did it.
Hopefully I can get back to my ass-kicking yoga and other P20x adventures in the following days. I’m starting to feel human again, at least as human as I get. We watched Avatar again and it still makes my chest ache. I want to be 10ft tall and blue so bad it hurts!
Earlier today was a trial of my good manners and patience because it took 5 hours to purchase my new laptop, which I am not currently typing on because it doesn’t have a word processor yet. Mom bought my old desktop so the new one, which is exactly the same as this one, only cost me $150. Can you see me smiling? Nothing better than getting a steal of a deal and streamlining efficiency – for those that don’t know, my old desktop has been having some issues: there’s speculation that it was inherently male when I bought it and inadvertently got a female replacement hard drive, which I’m sure everyone can understand, must be very confusing. My new one, named Monkey, is fast as lighting and sporting Windows 7, which thankfully isn’t quite as annoying as Windows Vista (don’t even get me started!).
That’s really the only big news. I’ve realized that my life isn’t that exciting, on the outside anyway; inside my head is a circus/nightmare/fairy tale/laboratory of sorts. Come to think of it, I should blog about some of the crazy dreams I have….this girl does not need acid, that’s for sure.
Just as a side note, I love to watch people wandering about looking for their cars. Two older ladies in ridiculously tight clothing were over by me and found their car two rows over in a corner. And just now this European guy was looking in the window of the Jeep in front of me and checking the license plate – I say European because no one else wears plaid shorts, the shirt collars turned up like Elvis, and sports bleached spiky hair all at once, or it’s more likely I know jack squat about fashion, he’s fabulous and I look like a bum. As you like it. I just try to not make any sudden movements – the last thing I need is someone getting startled and screaming bloody murder for security.
OH! Life isn’t quite as boring, and how could I forget already? I went to the Hospitality Design Expo yesterday with my crazy Canadian friend. LOVED IT! I now remember why I owe the government so much money, everything I love about design, and my plans to take over the world one décor at a time. Honey said my text messages had fire in them. Needless to say, my brain is now swirling with all sorts of plans on establishing my brand, settling on a name, marketing…and to be honest, I’m really hoping God is listening when I beg for certain ventures to pan out and launch me, catapult style, into the design world on my terms. And as corny as it may sound to anyone who’s not superstitious or what have you, I’m going to use the possibility of the world ending in 2012 as an excuse to do some very crazy, risky, and otherwise nonsensical things. If it goes right, Ill be basking in the success and my own prowess as a designer; if it does wrong, I’ll probably be picking up the pieces and have to settle, at least temporarily, with the comfort that I gave it everything I had. Really the only thing more tragic than failure is never trying at all….which is where I’m currently sitting. Reality check and ouch, already did it.
Hopefully I can get back to my ass-kicking yoga and other P20x adventures in the following days. I’m starting to feel human again, at least as human as I get. We watched Avatar again and it still makes my chest ache. I want to be 10ft tall and blue so bad it hurts!
They're all blending together...
I am exhausted. We both are. My eyes are burning, my head hurts, and I’m more than ready to be outta these clothes and shoes. It’s nearly 10:30pm; I’m camped in the garage at Caesar’s Palace. Unfortunately this whole place is lit up like an emergency room; don’t know how stealthy I can be under banks of fluorescents, but on the positive side I’m right by the elevators. Fingers crossed. The car next to me has giant cookies in its door pocket…they look like peanut butter…might be work breaking in…
The lead girl from the Pussycat Dolls is here tonight. She’s supposed to walk the carpet at 11:30pm – does that give you an idea of when I might get to bed? – and then perform at the nightclub. We got to go see the band Train in the same place and I thought it was an awful venue. Just because you have a stage doesn’t mean you should hold a concert. It’s standing room only and if you’re short (hello, down here!) you can’t see hardly anything. I had trouble with the strobe lights (migraine instantly), and had to go out and all the way around to the lady’s room because the one inside the club is right next to the stage and good freakin’ luck getting through the crowd. That’s where my poor Honey has to go (to the stage, not the bathroom). He’s beat too. He was up until 3am this morning captioning all the stuff from yesterday, then he went to work with me to bbq, which was excellent. Straight from work we went to the baby photo shoot (finally found all the backdrops – folded nicely in a fan box at the front of the garage). There’s been no rest for the wicked or anyone else. I suppose it’s better to be worked to death than not work at all.
I’m limping more today. Ask me to do anything besides walk around slowly, like get in or out of a car, sit in a chair or get up, etc and there will be a lot of wincing and groaning. I’m probably doing P20x right now and that’s the best I can do. Tomorrow we go again.
If anyone can help, check out this link for Nashville…
The lead girl from the Pussycat Dolls is here tonight. She’s supposed to walk the carpet at 11:30pm – does that give you an idea of when I might get to bed? – and then perform at the nightclub. We got to go see the band Train in the same place and I thought it was an awful venue. Just because you have a stage doesn’t mean you should hold a concert. It’s standing room only and if you’re short (hello, down here!) you can’t see hardly anything. I had trouble with the strobe lights (migraine instantly), and had to go out and all the way around to the lady’s room because the one inside the club is right next to the stage and good freakin’ luck getting through the crowd. That’s where my poor Honey has to go (to the stage, not the bathroom). He’s beat too. He was up until 3am this morning captioning all the stuff from yesterday, then he went to work with me to bbq, which was excellent. Straight from work we went to the baby photo shoot (finally found all the backdrops – folded nicely in a fan box at the front of the garage). There’s been no rest for the wicked or anyone else. I suppose it’s better to be worked to death than not work at all.
I’m limping more today. Ask me to do anything besides walk around slowly, like get in or out of a car, sit in a chair or get up, etc and there will be a lot of wincing and groaning. I’m probably doing P20x right now and that’s the best I can do. Tomorrow we go again.
If anyone can help, check out this link for Nashville…
Friday 3 events
It’s become apparent that my usual plan of sneaking in the car during red carpet events will soon have to come to an end. No, the minions in yellow haven’t found me again, not yet anyway. It’s just bloody hot in this garage though I’m in the shade. Pretty soon temp’s are gonna climb into the 90’s and 100’s and then me and the equipment will melt. I may have to go in soon today anyway. I’ve seen two minions in yellow already (why always on bicycles?) and there are enough people walking around I’ll probably get noticed soon. This is the first of three events today – good thing I didn’t have anything going, huh.
So I managed to get up early this morning and work out before all the madness started – ya’ll should’ve seen the mad dash we just did: waiting for Mom to get outta the doctor’s office while check-in time ticked ever closer, dashing home to get gear (cuz someone didn’t listen to me earlier when I said we should get it now) and finding a flooded toilet (why do they do that at complete random?) and dashing out again. I got him here within 5 minutes of check in, so we’re good. This garage is damn near full though; I got lucky when a guy left.
Speaking of my work outs…I’m way more outta shape than I thought. Granted I’m doing P90x, which is some seriously hard core stuff, but I can only do like 5-8 reps, I’m drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and my face turns all red. Right now I’m doing 30 minutes of the usually hour-long workouts. It’s a start. I don’t wanna get all gung-ho and hurt myself. You should hear my bones popping! I’m putting Rice Crispies to shame. Still I persevere. My legs and butt are protesting loudly, I’m limping cuz the muscles are so tight, but on the plus side, I’ve been charging thru the day and I woke Honey by demanding sex as my reward for not being a lazy slacker. Guys dig it when you initiate. ;)
Screw this, I’m going in. It’s hot.
Later…
We’re onto event 3. I’m running outta gas. It’s now 7:30pm and I’m enjoying a rather nice view of the south end of the Strip and the planes leaving the airport. I’ve opted not to join the madness inside – apparently New Kids on the Block still have a large following. This is the first time I’ve ever had to park on the 3rd floor of this garage (same venue, but other garage this time. I’ve never seen minions in this one). I’m parked next to a lovely classic Cadillac with white wall tires. Hoping Honey won’t have to stay for the whole thing. First Friday is tonight, we still need to find the damn backdrops for tomorrow’s shoot, and go to the grocery store cuz Honey’s going to work with me tomorrow and grilling out back to celebrate the final departure of that useless worm, the temp. It’s a trade-off though; we get the new guy while the manager is off. The new guy, Bill, is an electrician – which makes me feel a bit better about me and all my expensive education hanging out at the lamp store. At least I’m not alone. :)
There won’t be any work out tomorrow cuz I just can’t find a time to fit it in. I work all day, then dash with Honey to a baby photo shoot, then a red carpet at 11pm. I’m not sure I’m woman enough to get up early for it. Security might find me snoring softly in the front seat come tomorrow night if I do…now that I’m thinking about it though that might be good, the getting up early part, cuz then I don’t screw the rotation and I get Sunday off of working out and to sleep in cuz the shop opens late. Hmmm…something to consider. Right now I’m considering a nap.
So I managed to get up early this morning and work out before all the madness started – ya’ll should’ve seen the mad dash we just did: waiting for Mom to get outta the doctor’s office while check-in time ticked ever closer, dashing home to get gear (cuz someone didn’t listen to me earlier when I said we should get it now) and finding a flooded toilet (why do they do that at complete random?) and dashing out again. I got him here within 5 minutes of check in, so we’re good. This garage is damn near full though; I got lucky when a guy left.
Speaking of my work outs…I’m way more outta shape than I thought. Granted I’m doing P90x, which is some seriously hard core stuff, but I can only do like 5-8 reps, I’m drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and my face turns all red. Right now I’m doing 30 minutes of the usually hour-long workouts. It’s a start. I don’t wanna get all gung-ho and hurt myself. You should hear my bones popping! I’m putting Rice Crispies to shame. Still I persevere. My legs and butt are protesting loudly, I’m limping cuz the muscles are so tight, but on the plus side, I’ve been charging thru the day and I woke Honey by demanding sex as my reward for not being a lazy slacker. Guys dig it when you initiate. ;)
Screw this, I’m going in. It’s hot.
Later…
We’re onto event 3. I’m running outta gas. It’s now 7:30pm and I’m enjoying a rather nice view of the south end of the Strip and the planes leaving the airport. I’ve opted not to join the madness inside – apparently New Kids on the Block still have a large following. This is the first time I’ve ever had to park on the 3rd floor of this garage (same venue, but other garage this time. I’ve never seen minions in this one). I’m parked next to a lovely classic Cadillac with white wall tires. Hoping Honey won’t have to stay for the whole thing. First Friday is tonight, we still need to find the damn backdrops for tomorrow’s shoot, and go to the grocery store cuz Honey’s going to work with me tomorrow and grilling out back to celebrate the final departure of that useless worm, the temp. It’s a trade-off though; we get the new guy while the manager is off. The new guy, Bill, is an electrician – which makes me feel a bit better about me and all my expensive education hanging out at the lamp store. At least I’m not alone. :)
There won’t be any work out tomorrow cuz I just can’t find a time to fit it in. I work all day, then dash with Honey to a baby photo shoot, then a red carpet at 11pm. I’m not sure I’m woman enough to get up early for it. Security might find me snoring softly in the front seat come tomorrow night if I do…now that I’m thinking about it though that might be good, the getting up early part, cuz then I don’t screw the rotation and I get Sunday off of working out and to sleep in cuz the shop opens late. Hmmm…something to consider. Right now I’m considering a nap.
For Real :)
After I wrote the ‘5 days’ post I sat there feeling helpless/disgusted/pissed off for another 5 minutes. Then I got up (off my dead ass), got the P90x DVD’s outta the closet and did 30 minutes of “xtreme yoga”. And they weren’t kidding either. Anyone who laughs at, pokes fun at, generally makes jokes about or says yoga is for pussies – ain’t never done yoga. I’ve done two days in a row now (go me!) and feel like I’ve been beaten all over with a stick (probably by some Japanese Zen master who knows what he’s doing). I feel like hell but feel better about me, if you follow.
So the ‘Get Moving’ campaign is officially started. There’s going to be some juggling – for example Saturday is gonna be a complete loss, with work followed by two photo shoots ending sometime around midnight (that’s now my Saturday nights folks). The schedule is supposed to be 3 days on, one off, 2 on, one off. I’m starting with the two days first because right now I can’t really move. I took today off and tomorrow morning I go at it again. So anyone who was waiting for me to lead by example – I’m doing it. Now it’s your turn.
I’m off to a hot bath, which I may regret.
So the ‘Get Moving’ campaign is officially started. There’s going to be some juggling – for example Saturday is gonna be a complete loss, with work followed by two photo shoots ending sometime around midnight (that’s now my Saturday nights folks). The schedule is supposed to be 3 days on, one off, 2 on, one off. I’m starting with the two days first because right now I can’t really move. I took today off and tomorrow morning I go at it again. So anyone who was waiting for me to lead by example – I’m doing it. Now it’s your turn.
I’m off to a hot bath, which I may regret.
5 days
I should be happy. Happy should be my natural state, despite all the dramas, crisis, and other madness that happens, but right now I'm not. I've realized that 5 days have passed since I resolved to get moving and take charge (if not control) of my life. Why is it that once I decide things, big life-changing things, we suddenly get really busy? I'm staying up too late, getting up just in time to be dashing madly from one place to another, trying not to forget anything important...and not having time to do what I need to do. It's frustrating...more so because I'm exhausted. I guess the solution is learning to live on less: less sleep, less food, less stuff to do. That last one sounds lucacris even to me.
*sigh*
*sigh*
Post Red Carpet Notes
Just as an FYI, no one walked the red carpet Saturday night. The place was mobbed after the fight, a fight broke out, security lost control, the crowd stormed the club. Word was at least three people got tazed. So P. Diddy and Eva Longoria bypassed the red carpet altogether - which meant three hours of standing around for nothing for my poor Honey. :( Off to bed for me.
Fight Night
This is last Saturday's post. Life happened between now and then. Here it is finally...
It’s been one of those weird days. Bad things have happened to good people. Not bad things have happened to bad (or at least severely annoying) people, for which I’m truly disappointed. I started out going thru the motions – earlier when I was thinking about this post I was going to say “desperately trying to wake up” but I wasn’t really. I rather prefer going thru the motions on autopilot as opposed to the harshness of desperately trying to wake up. That makes it sounds like I need all my faculties for something important, which considering my current job and the mental capacity of the temp, I don’t. Nothing bad against my job – it’s a job I’m happy to have and happier still it’s not a stressful one, but nobody appreciates needless drama. Besides, at the time I was prepping for a very trying day, one that started at 8am and wouldn’t end until 1am. Things have changed a little since then. The baby photo shoot got postponed a week – anyone who’s ever moved knows weird shit happens…we’ve managed to misplace most of the backdrops and the ones we can find smell heavily like gasoline. (WTF??). We, in our professionalism, didn’t think that would be appropriate for a 3 month old.
So instead of the mad dash, I got to go home, eat dinner (sitting at a table no less), chat with my hubby about the crazy nonsense the temp kid jibbered about, have a little private time, and read two chapters of my current book before heading out into post-fight mayhem. And yes, I’m pretty sure ‘jibbered’ is a word, even though my spell check is freaking out. It’s usually reserved for ghouls if my vocabulary serves me (it might be off today, you never know). Carrying on. I learned my lesson from the garage trolls last night. I’m wearing real clothes, parked in the middle of a row with other cars, away from the lights (so it’s bloody dark in here and I’m doing this by feel), and with the windows barely cracked open in the hopes of not attracting attention. I even dimmed the monitor. Fingers crossed.
So the temp kid poses this hypothetical scenario: what would you do if you knew the world was gonna end today?
I said I’d get the hell outta the shop and go home. He says obviously, that’s a given. I’m not sure if he’s smart enough to insult me, but he’s been dropping little digs like this all day and it’s brought my hackles up another inch. So I say, “ Well how long do we have? Two hours or twelve?” He says ok, midnight tonight the world is gonna end. Then he drops this fabulous one-liner: would you go steal stuff from the mall? My co-worker and I are slightly stumped and ask why (since logically you’d only have it for 6 hours anyway, what’s the point?). He’s talking about robbing a bank, getting all this money and stuff. Said he’d have his Bentley for a minute. – I’m beginning to notice a materialistic pattern here. I say I’d get in the car and just drive. He makes this condescending face at me, and says “what’s the point of that?” I ask “what’s the point of having money if in five minutes we all go up in flames?” Then he says the aliens are coming to abduct us all.
- picture me with an are-you-freaking-retarded look on my face.
Then he starts talking about that movie Will Smith did called I am Legend and saying things like ‘what if I’m the last man on Earth’ (when in point of fact, Will wasn’t the last man on Earth in the film) and ‘I could rob a bank’. (Again with this senseless greed…). I stumped him when I asked who he’d pay with all his money if he were the only one here.
God, we sound like twelve-year-olds bickering, don’t we? Gag.
Anyway, I was telling Honey about it later and before I said what I’d do, he says “ I’d get in the car and just drive”. Remember that line from Shrek about “our minds are already becoming one”? Yeah, we’re there.
So this is the bad part, and I’ll condense. Do you know someone who was more than likely intentionally given genital herpes? I do. And I don’t know how to comfort someone in that position. That’s serious life-altering shit. That’s a crappy conversation that will probably ruin most chances at getting laid. What can I possibly say that might make that remotely better? If you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears. By the way, I’m told that in the US, 40% of sexually active people have herpes. Just FYI.
It’s been one of those weird days. Bad things have happened to good people. Not bad things have happened to bad (or at least severely annoying) people, for which I’m truly disappointed. I started out going thru the motions – earlier when I was thinking about this post I was going to say “desperately trying to wake up” but I wasn’t really. I rather prefer going thru the motions on autopilot as opposed to the harshness of desperately trying to wake up. That makes it sounds like I need all my faculties for something important, which considering my current job and the mental capacity of the temp, I don’t. Nothing bad against my job – it’s a job I’m happy to have and happier still it’s not a stressful one, but nobody appreciates needless drama. Besides, at the time I was prepping for a very trying day, one that started at 8am and wouldn’t end until 1am. Things have changed a little since then. The baby photo shoot got postponed a week – anyone who’s ever moved knows weird shit happens…we’ve managed to misplace most of the backdrops and the ones we can find smell heavily like gasoline. (WTF??). We, in our professionalism, didn’t think that would be appropriate for a 3 month old.
So instead of the mad dash, I got to go home, eat dinner (sitting at a table no less), chat with my hubby about the crazy nonsense the temp kid jibbered about, have a little private time, and read two chapters of my current book before heading out into post-fight mayhem. And yes, I’m pretty sure ‘jibbered’ is a word, even though my spell check is freaking out. It’s usually reserved for ghouls if my vocabulary serves me (it might be off today, you never know). Carrying on. I learned my lesson from the garage trolls last night. I’m wearing real clothes, parked in the middle of a row with other cars, away from the lights (so it’s bloody dark in here and I’m doing this by feel), and with the windows barely cracked open in the hopes of not attracting attention. I even dimmed the monitor. Fingers crossed.
So the temp kid poses this hypothetical scenario: what would you do if you knew the world was gonna end today?
I said I’d get the hell outta the shop and go home. He says obviously, that’s a given. I’m not sure if he’s smart enough to insult me, but he’s been dropping little digs like this all day and it’s brought my hackles up another inch. So I say, “ Well how long do we have? Two hours or twelve?” He says ok, midnight tonight the world is gonna end. Then he drops this fabulous one-liner: would you go steal stuff from the mall? My co-worker and I are slightly stumped and ask why (since logically you’d only have it for 6 hours anyway, what’s the point?). He’s talking about robbing a bank, getting all this money and stuff. Said he’d have his Bentley for a minute. – I’m beginning to notice a materialistic pattern here. I say I’d get in the car and just drive. He makes this condescending face at me, and says “what’s the point of that?” I ask “what’s the point of having money if in five minutes we all go up in flames?” Then he says the aliens are coming to abduct us all.
- picture me with an are-you-freaking-retarded look on my face.
Then he starts talking about that movie Will Smith did called I am Legend and saying things like ‘what if I’m the last man on Earth’ (when in point of fact, Will wasn’t the last man on Earth in the film) and ‘I could rob a bank’. (Again with this senseless greed…). I stumped him when I asked who he’d pay with all his money if he were the only one here.
God, we sound like twelve-year-olds bickering, don’t we? Gag.
Anyway, I was telling Honey about it later and before I said what I’d do, he says “ I’d get in the car and just drive”. Remember that line from Shrek about “our minds are already becoming one”? Yeah, we’re there.
So this is the bad part, and I’ll condense. Do you know someone who was more than likely intentionally given genital herpes? I do. And I don’t know how to comfort someone in that position. That’s serious life-altering shit. That’s a crappy conversation that will probably ruin most chances at getting laid. What can I possibly say that might make that remotely better? If you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears. By the way, I’m told that in the US, 40% of sexually active people have herpes. Just FYI.
Booted from my Roost
I was about to start this post when security decided to kick me out of the parking garage. Not only is under the Palazzo shock-creted hell, it has minions wearing yellow. Thank God I’m not wearing my pajamas and slippers tonight; I’m extremely underdressed nonetheless. So now I’m camped on a bench on the retail level in front of two legless mannequins, one of whom is holding the leash of a rather grumpy looking, entirely pink bulldog. They have no faces, but they’re staring at me anyway. They’re dressed better than I am too.
I did a self-acceptance move this weekend (my weekend now being Thursday/Friday, pay attention) – I went to the thrift store and bought pants that actually fit the current size of my ass. A number of people would consider that consent, or at the bare minimum, giving in. But let’s be frank: I don’t want to spend every weekend uncomfortable or join the Sausage People. I’m a grown woman and can admit my dress size gracefully. I’d rather hate myself for succumbing to size 20 and look decent for my size than pretend to still be a 16 and look desperately squeezed and constipated. It’s a trade off I can live with.
There’s elevator music. Why are pink ties so popular all of a sudden? I’m looking at a whole storefront of colors no reasonable straight man would wear. Those legs on 4” heels that just strutted by weren’t bad either. Damn. Not only do I dream about legs like that, now I have to dream about strutting with them in stilettos. I think 4”s is becoming the new norm. I read an article recently claiming that economic hardships bring about the creation of taller high heels for women. We wore flats up until the Great Depression, which spurned the 2-3” babies I wore to prom; now we’re in the “Great Recession” or whatever they’re calling it these days, and 4-5” are pretty common. You know how tall I would be in 4” heels? Nearly 6 foot. And probably limping like a lame duck. Very sexy. Besides, I think it looks funny for a tall man to be dwarfed by his Amazonian lady friend, who eventually will be waddling like a penguin because her $400 heels are killing her.
Very sexy indeed.
Well, I’m ready to go. I’m yawning, plan to get up early tomorrow and get moving, plus I’m facing a ridiculously long day: work, baby photo shoot back to back with red carpet shoot. I might see my bed sometime around 12:30am Sunday. I picked a helluva week to get my life together.
The mini dress is back with a vengeance. What do you think the symbolism is behind a huge tattoo of a blue buffalo head on a woman’s arm? If you come up with anything good, lemme know. I’m stumped.
Thought for a second I was gonna get WiFi in here, but alas, the stingy bastards have security on everything and what I can link to doesn’t have enough juice to let me online. There’s a lot of shrieking coming from somewhere…? I guess I post after we get home. It’s been 20 minutes; this thing should be over by now. Wonder what’s taking so long. I’ll bet the handful of change in my purse that if I lay down on this lovely bench to catch a cat nap, the goons in yellow will be immediately alerted. Better not chance getting thrown out of the hotel and the garage on the same night.
I did a self-acceptance move this weekend (my weekend now being Thursday/Friday, pay attention) – I went to the thrift store and bought pants that actually fit the current size of my ass. A number of people would consider that consent, or at the bare minimum, giving in. But let’s be frank: I don’t want to spend every weekend uncomfortable or join the Sausage People. I’m a grown woman and can admit my dress size gracefully. I’d rather hate myself for succumbing to size 20 and look decent for my size than pretend to still be a 16 and look desperately squeezed and constipated. It’s a trade off I can live with.
There’s elevator music. Why are pink ties so popular all of a sudden? I’m looking at a whole storefront of colors no reasonable straight man would wear. Those legs on 4” heels that just strutted by weren’t bad either. Damn. Not only do I dream about legs like that, now I have to dream about strutting with them in stilettos. I think 4”s is becoming the new norm. I read an article recently claiming that economic hardships bring about the creation of taller high heels for women. We wore flats up until the Great Depression, which spurned the 2-3” babies I wore to prom; now we’re in the “Great Recession” or whatever they’re calling it these days, and 4-5” are pretty common. You know how tall I would be in 4” heels? Nearly 6 foot. And probably limping like a lame duck. Very sexy. Besides, I think it looks funny for a tall man to be dwarfed by his Amazonian lady friend, who eventually will be waddling like a penguin because her $400 heels are killing her.
Very sexy indeed.
Well, I’m ready to go. I’m yawning, plan to get up early tomorrow and get moving, plus I’m facing a ridiculously long day: work, baby photo shoot back to back with red carpet shoot. I might see my bed sometime around 12:30am Sunday. I picked a helluva week to get my life together.
The mini dress is back with a vengeance. What do you think the symbolism is behind a huge tattoo of a blue buffalo head on a woman’s arm? If you come up with anything good, lemme know. I’m stumped.
Thought for a second I was gonna get WiFi in here, but alas, the stingy bastards have security on everything and what I can link to doesn’t have enough juice to let me online. There’s a lot of shrieking coming from somewhere…? I guess I post after we get home. It’s been 20 minutes; this thing should be over by now. Wonder what’s taking so long. I’ll bet the handful of change in my purse that if I lay down on this lovely bench to catch a cat nap, the goons in yellow will be immediately alerted. Better not chance getting thrown out of the hotel and the garage on the same night.
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