Whoring My Skills

After 3 interviews this week, I really just want to spend the rest of the week in bed, hiding from the world. Which I think I'm due.

This shit is exahusting, you know?

The first interview ended with a question that had to be thrown out there. Thankfully, I'm friends with the recruiter, allowing me to be quite candid. So when he asked, "you don't really want this job, do you?" I could honestly say, "it would be like having the marrow sucked out of my soul" and he knew exactly what I meant. And then we made plans for sushi.

So I will not be working for the Japanese auto maker. Oh, darn.

Today I was walking out the door to the Last Comic Standing finale taping in Pasadena , when I got a call from a billiards club in Old Town looking for an event sales manager. I hadn't applied for the job, but the GM saw my résumé and wanted to meet me. Since I was going to be in the area this afternoon anyway, I figured why not?

I don't know how the hell these sales jobs keep dropping in my lap. I plan events, I don't sell the space; I'm the client not the vendor. So I don't get it. But this gig would be pretty cool...except for the commute.

I have a strict policy against driving through LA traffic to earn a paycheck. And the ride between West LA and Pasadena passes through some of the worst possible clusterfucks this city has to offer. Like the East LA interchange. It's the very reason road rage exists.

As such, I had to come up with several reasons to drive 25 miles to work each morning:

• 7 types of tequila in the bar (including Corzo, Tres Generaciones, and Cazadores. Yum!!)
• Pasadena = Rose Bowl = UCLA football (and yes, it is a decidedly Bruin house!!!)
• Complete free reign to work this job as I see fit (no predecessor means I set the bar)
• Honest-to-god, legit party planning, 24/7 (no really!)
• With football season coming up, my work would be almost completely done for the entire rest of the year (which gives me a nice long time to find my groove)
• Three words: Pimp & Ho Ball (and you're all on the invite list)

And finally: It's a fucking bar, yo!

What's funny is that while the Princess was looking for a job, I kept trying to convince her to become a club promoter. And now she's a corporate whore. Things really do come full circle.

Hopefully tomorrow I find out about the job I really want. Which will save me from wearing those ridiculous stripey socks. That, apparently, you all loved.

Savages.