Timeout

News: today I became an exempt employee. Yay?

Tomorrow I work a 12 hour day. No yay.

The month by the numbers will be, consequently, delayed.

Angry Little Men

My third cocktail party of the week was held at the Elevate Lounge, 21 floors above downtown.  Despite my intention to lay off drinking until next week's Stair Climb, there was an open bar.  But it wasn't until I stood there talking about scotch with a client that I absolutely had to have some.  And damn, was it good.

It also completely squelched my fatigue.  I've been feeling like hell lately.  Maybe because I was at THREE parties in the last 7 days.  All work-related.  My life is hard.

One glass of scotch, 5 glasses of water.  One of which the bartender accidently spilled on me.  Thank god I wasn't wearing white.  Then we started making jokes about getting wet.  It was funny.  He's a good bartender.  Except for the "accidental" dropsies.

I'd go back to if the valet wasn't such an jerk.  Look, I can park my own car.  And I usually will, unless there is absolutely no parking around.  But the entrance to the club's building is down an alley, across from an empty parking structure.  You think I can't find my own space 20 feet from the door?  Why should I have to pay someone 7 bucks to do it for me?  Unfortunately, the answer is yes.  They won't let you self-park.  And the guy is always rude to me.  So I refuse to tip him.  It almost makes me never want to go back.

It's really too bad.  Because that bartender was really cool.

Back at the Ranch

The checklist before the weekend:
1. New boy earning further dating adventures and, by extenstion, a nickname

2. Find job leads at the conference

Things I learned during my weekend in Tucson:
1. Drinking is a very important part of networking.  Because when under the influence of Lagavulin 16, you will agree to serve on committees that will eat up all your valuable and precious little free time.  And said committees will not only greatly enhance your resume, they will also put you in closer contact with the perfect people to help steer your career.

2. The boys are all gay, and you will end up watching football with women.  All of who individually know more about it than all the boys combined.

3. A flight delay means more time to watch football with said women, all of whom are invaluable career resources.

4. Football is also a very important part of networking.

So while the trip was exceptionally successful, the boy has not yet earned himself a nickname.  But that's more his problem than mine.

Back to Work

My vacation is officially over.  Tomorrow I get a day full of meetings, in-fighting, and other crap about which I could really not care less.  L'sigh.

There's another job in San Francisco which is looking very attractive.

The best thing about the last seven days was all the great stuff I packed into them.  Like smacking my head on a machine at the gym today.  Or the privilege of scraping my leg on a Kelly Wearstler chair last night.  I am, after all, a klutz extraordinaire!  And I'm continuing my trend from last month where I will bowl, cheerlead, date, network, drink, volunteer or tweet with reckless abandon just to make the hours between 8 am and 5 pm bearable.

Thankfully, the day will end with a cocktail party AND a Giants game.  I love me some Eli Manning.  While I drink scotch.

Overheard at Barragan's

I have a new employee.  He's pretty cool.  But he's still learning my sense of humor.

New Guy: So my brother moved his family down to Georgia.

GPG: Ooh.  They're under attack from Russia right now.  Not a good place to be.

NG: Oh, no I meant--

GPG: I'm kidding!  I know what you meant.

He'll come around eventually.  I hope.

And You Can See My House From There

Here are a few tips I picked up during my workday today:

1. Do not walk around Universal Studios in three-inch wedges.  Even if you get escorted in for free.

2. Do go on The Simpsons RIDE.  It's cute, funny, and better than any of the other rides in the park.

That is all.

Worker Bee Horror Stories

A few weeks ago, I had a small luncheon at one of my usual hotels. Only about 100 people. I was there the day before for a meeting, after which I decided to chat with the catering director about what yummies we were serving at the event.

Except there was no meal, no menu, no info whatsoever. Because the event wasn't on their calendar.

Cue a freakout.

This had never happened to me. Usually my contracts are in order months ahead of time. This was just crazy fluke that was mercifully resolved within 5 simple minutes. I never even really got to panic because the catering director's first reaction was "not a problem."

Thank god there wasn't some event that sold all of the hotel space that week. Then I would have been seriously fucked.

And not in a good way.

Hopefully that never happens again.

June by the Numbers

It's July. Time just keeps passing me by. It's quite freaky. I didn't realize the kids are already out of school. Hey, does anyone remember what a summer vacation is like?



6 inches chopped off during hair surgery
10 days spent enjoying the fabulousness of short hair
2 weekends with my baby brother
27 years of age celebrated
5 pictures snapped of us girls on the red carpet
2.5 hours noshing from the sushi and chocolate stations
1 evening with visiting English solicitors
2 hours of jokes about American politicians
2 days spent at the LA Convention Center
3 hours before my feet started hurting on the first day
10 more spent on my feet
420 dinner guests
3 feds
45 minutes spent playfully locking horns with one
1 lesson on drinking whiskey
50 paperclips collected before abandoning the paperclip jump rope idea
2 employees quit
10 weeks left to hire their replacements
94 minutes spent as a fugitive in San Diego County
168 dollars in bail
2 hours of Scott Weiland looking like a chemo patient
69 rows from the stage
2 semi prophetic dreams
1 phone call from a certain man, confirming he'll be here in just a few days
113 minutes wasted on the disastrously flawed Bloodline documentary
110 minutes enjoying the adorably funny Get Smart
116 minutes with Black Snake Moan in the background
1 job found in Geneva
1 year to relearn French...and Spanish

All Work and No Play

I had an all day event followed by an all night event today. I've been on my feet for nearly 14 hours. It's awesome.

What's also great is how my subconscious decided to remind me what all was going on in the city tonight. I had a dream that we were at the hotel for tonight's event with a bunch of young guys hanging around wearing college basketball jerseys. And that's when I remembered that the NBA Draft was today!! Who needs a blackberry when you get your reminders in your sleep?

As I drove past Staples Center, there was a huge party gathering, hosted by the Clipper Nation. I got my invite several weeks ago, but already knew I was otherwise committed. I sadly looked the other way and made my way from event #1 to event #2. Fuck, it was a long day.

And Kevin Love went to Memphis? Ironic, don'tcha think? I do have to give Chicago credit for snagging Derrick Rose. That kid is unstoppable. As Love will tell you.

Flirting with Change

My parents are trying to get rid of me. They want me to go far away. Probably because I haven't given them grandkids. My baby brother took his way down south, Big Fish keeps his brood around the corner, but apparently I'm just taking up space.

Or maybe they want an outpost up north too.

It started when my dad sent me a job listing for a position in San Francisco. He knows how much I've always wanted to live there, and the job is right up my alley. It's for a great company, too.

C-dub would love for me to live up there with her. Rumor has it that a certain man might be returning to the area too. So I'd have a little tribe ready-made. A really good, sexy tribe in one of the best cities in the world. Who doesn't want that?

But I feel like I just got my sea legs on the job I already have. I've been in the new position for a mere 8 months. But I'm good at it. My employees like me, my boss adores me. And I just had the opportunity to draft plans for a new infrastructure. Little ol' me is helping redirect the future of my company. I like that, both the responsibility and the accolades.

I'm not sure I'm ready to give that up.

Though I suppose it couldn't hurt to dust off the résumé, right?

T-33 Days

33 is my lucky number, and has been since Grant Hill's rookie year. He's such a cutie pie.

Now it's a mere 33 days until my 30th birthday. And for the first time in 30 years, I'm not exactly excited.

I'm more nervous than anything. And I can't quite articulate why.

It might have something to do with the list I made nearly 18 months ago, detailing what I meant to accomplish before the Big Day. To my great disappointment, I've only knocked about 4 things off the 19-item list. They've been good ones. I managed to get that passport, run what amounts to 2 marathons, pay off a massive amount of debt, and we even took that girlie weekend away. But it doesn't seem like enough.

Truly, I'm very hard to please and rarely ever satisfied. With myself or anyone else.

You'd think it would be pretty easy to become "notorious." Well, I've reached "infamous" among my coworkers, so at least I'm getting somewhere there. But I've given up numerous opportunities to go salsa dancing. More often than not, work gets in the way. That's a really lame excuse.

Learning ballet, tracing my lineage, traveling deep into Mexico and/or Europe...not at all. But the true failure is what should have been the easiest: a simple kiss under the pier at sunset. After all, up until 3 months ago, I lived right there by the beach.

But I think I gave up on that when I gave in to a man, nearly a year ago. Who, on our first date, told me I'd have to find someone else to do that with because he didn't like the beach. We would later go on to spend a lot of time near the beach, but never on it. He really hated sand. And in all the ways that he failed me, ways big and small, this is one of the most regrettable ones.

So I cheated myself out of that one, plain and simple. But I have 33 days to make it right.

The question is, will I? I guess I have to start auditioning willing participants.

Great. Because artificially constructing the backdrop for one great kiss doesn't destroy the romance completely, does it?

What a sad story.

I Have a Type

And he's a big, strong man in a dark suit, hiding a Glock.

I truly love flirting. I can't not do it. Even when I try not to! That sounds ridiculous, I know. But if a man can carry on an intelligent and witty conversation with me, it brings out the trademark smile. And you know where that gets me...

Especially with men with guns. There's something so irresistibly carnal about an armed man. Maybe because that's what I need: to feel protected.

And that's what we get whenever a judge is around. We didn't play with my feds today, but the state cops were just as good. The eye candy we have on security detail is almost too much, like it's straight out of a movie. Can I tell you how adorable the rookie from SF was today? And so very sweet, despite the task at hand. They're so official with their ear pieces, talking into their sleeves like a huge covert operation is going on. It's not like everyone didn't know the Supreme Court was in town today.

But then he had to leave us for San Francisco again. (I can already hear C-dub admonishing me to come visit.) Well, he does have 2 motorcycles. And I've been wanting lessons...

March by the Numbers

I still hate baseball. But I love lists and numbers, so here you go. My quite busy 31 days:

13 hours playing the planner behind the scenes for one very long event
15 hours before the end of that and the start of a boat trip
3 nights on a cruise
12 hours docked in Ensenada
189 dollars for a passport
0 seconds spent exploring Mexico
0 need for said passport
2 gay boys instantly bonded with
40 dollars spent playing B-I-N-G-O
4000 dollars to be won
0 dollars won
150 dollars wasted at the spa
90 dollars of products they attempted to sell me
5 minutes to the top of the rock wall
20 minutes before my arms stopped vibrating
3 glorious days with my best friend, not worrying about a fucking thing
400 miles traveled by sea
260 miles traveled to and from San Diego
2 days with my baby brother's family
1 ticket for driving--unbeknownst to me--my brother's car without the lights on
10 full minutes of a child screaming while the fucking cop wrote out the ticket
1 UCLA game enjoyed with my brother and his son
13 college basketball games watched all month
4 games rooting loudly for Love & Co.
30 days dreading the start of baseball season, and my impending coronary
1 unexpected phone call from an ex
12 minutes of utterly shocked silence on my end
1 apology I still can't quite accept
2 family birthdays
49 years combined between them
4 new restaurants checked out with La Ria
1 very disappointing sushi dinner
3 movies enjoyed
4 days given to rescue a management project
17 days wasted on it by someone else
3 days taken to complete it
31 days spent kicking all sorts of ass

Time for Bed

It's like this, which I told someone yesterday: all I can think about is how fucking tired I am, and how much I want to murder someone.

My feet are swollen. From standing. In heels. For 2 hours. And drinking wine.

Also, if you're watching this game and really think Western Kentucky is going to win, the short bus is waiting to take you back to retard school. Because you're a fucking idiot.

That is all.

Spring Forward

Remember this promise I made to you, myself and a god I don't believe in? It turns out that when you go on vacation, the work doesn't stop. Who knew?

This time change isn't helping. It's really easy to think it's time to rush home when it's dark out, and just as easy to assume it's time to keep working when the sun is still out. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great when I get out "on time" and there's still hours of daylight left. And now that I don't drive directly into the setting sun, this is a giant bonus.

But the shitstorm that started while I was on vacation--a subordinate employee, personnel changes--has me chained to my fake cherry wood desk. I don't even like dark wood. I'm a naked pine kind of girl.

You can quote me on it.

I swear to god, I'm living a weird sort of solar-induced soap opera. Is anyone else dealing with weird shit now that the sun shines till nearly midnight?

Into the Big Blue Sea

Bob Schneider knew what he was talking about in that song from 40 Day and 40 Nights. Which was a better movie than the completely unrelated 30 Days of Night. Oddly enough, both starred Josh Hartnett. Not important. Back to Austin favorite Bob. When you're overwhelmed and in despair, the only thing to do is take to the ocean.

Or something. Which is why tomorrow, the Krazy Mommy and I will be celebrating 25 years of friendship and 30 years of age on top of a rock wall, floating out in the Pacific Ocean. Please don't send pirates.

It has been an incredibly stressful month. I pulled off some more of those sweet tricks that solidified my already strong reputation, and tonight, bought me a huge bottle of San Matias. My clients adore me, and my job comes with some fabulous perks, but I've earn every fucking second of this very short vacation.

So if you don't hear from us again, it's because we opted to stay in Mexico. Have a great weekend while we're in a foreign country.

The Single Life

Pulling off that "wedding" today was the highlight of my week. Mostly because of the federal cops I had crawling all over the place.

I adore men who get to carry guns for a living. I don't know what the attraction is. It's not necessarily the uniforms. My guys are in plain clothes. But there is one in particular who makes me all weak in the knees.


I don't remember when we first met, but his team has provided security detail for at least 3 of my events over the past year. During one, I heard he likes tequila.


This is a match made in heaven.


But I missed a crucial opportunity today just as the event was winding down. We were chatting about something inconsequential, but I sensed he didn't want to leave just yet. Then the company president came over to ask me a question and I got distracted. When I turned back 2 minutes later, it was to his outstretched hand bidding me adieu.


Or adios, seeing as he is Hispanic. Dammit. I could have asked him to join me for a drink later, but work got in the way.


I'll see him again at the next wedding-sized event. But that's not for another 3 months. It's time to make this happen already.

Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?

Have you ever planned a wedding? For about 350 people? Who had to be assigned seating? Then you know what a headache it can be, dealing with hotels and making sure your drunk uncle doesn't grope a member of the other family. It's enough to make you want to elope.

I have an event tomorrow which is kind of like that. But for my wedding, I don't have the option of running to Vegas. We're going to do it loud, proud, and with lots of pomp and circumstance. And we're doing it tomorrow.

On Monday, I had 350 people coming. Last night we worked for 3 hours figuring out who deserved the front row, who would accept the outskirts, and where we'd shove the stragglers. Success right? Until we realized today that we actually had 430 people coming. Cue a call to the hotel to increase the guarantee, plus a request for a new schematic of the room so we'd know how to make use of the new real estate. I had to leave a message. I immediately followed up with an email.

That was at noon. At 5:30 pm, I suddenly received an out-of-office email back. WHAT THE FUCK? That's a hell of a delay. I called again. Got someone else's voicemail. Left a slightly frantic message. You can imagine the minor heart attack I was experiencing. Visions of people being forced to stand while eating their three courses started to drive me insane. That's if there was even enough food! What if there wasn't enough staff to even plate/serve/remove the extra 80 meals? What the hell was I going to do?!

Thankfully--mercifully!--about 30 minutes later, the hotel called back and assured me they had enough banquet staff, food, and my diagram was on its way momentarily. We were back on track. I started breathing normally soon after that.

And now it's nearly midnight and I just wandered home. The upside of leaving work in the middle of the night is you can make 13 miles in about 15 minutes. Now I have to get my beauty sleep. Lest I look like hell for my "wedding" tomorrow.

And that is what I do for a living. Every, single day. So when it comes to planning my actual wedding, you can understand why I'll be paying someone else to carry that burden.

And I don't like to bring my work home with me.

The Upside of Downsizing

We restructured my department today. It's been a full two months of planning for all sorts of contingencies, strategies, and all the eventualities that come with a reorganization--on top of doing my actual job. The fun part was creating the org chart.

I didn't get to do that part.

I did, however, find out that one of our support staffers is scared of me. I was both surprised and, oddly enough, flattered. He has very little reason to be afraid of me. It's just that he hasn't worked for me for very long, and I've heard I can be intimidating. And this is why he delivers everything I ask of him in a very timely and efficient manner.

Hey, if that's what it takes to get people to do their jobs, I'm all for it. It's not like I'm purposely terrorizing anyone. I'm just being myself. And most people like me as is.

I'm actually very nice to him. I just treat him like an equal instead of patronizing him, which everyone else does. And I don't think he's used to that.

It's an interesting new world. I'm still cracking up that someone finds me scary.

That's just too good.

Craziness P-ersonified

I was all set to bitch about my 12 hour day--after I'd sworn off 12 hour days this year! But really it's just due to the fact that my life is so hard, I spent 3 hours at Simon LA over at the Sofitel Hotel. Which, by the way, is not as fancy a hotel as it wants to pretend it is. Expensive and trendy? Okay. But fancy? Fuck no. I'll go to the Bel Aire Hotel or the Beverly Hilton for "fancy," you overpriced, arrogant and quite dumpy hotel!

Back to my point: 12 hours!

Then I came home and Little Bull--winner of our last contest--had written about yesterday's glorious game and I just think that Eli Manning is the cutest little mouth breather on the planet, and I'd really love to have his babies if I could be guaranteed they wouldn't come out retarded, but I'll settle for just his jersey because this has officially become a run-on sentence and my brain has exploded.

But none of that is important because through LB I found us another blog that will definitely make you squirt coke through your nose, which burns like a bitch because coke should only go UP your nose, not OUT it, and there I go with another run on sentence.

Want to guess what drugs I'm on? Did I mention they serve cotton candy at Simon LA? Do you know that cotton candy is PURE FUCKING SUGAR and I'm still bouncing off the walls even though my lunch meeting ended 4 hours ago?

Go read My Crazy Roommate. It's really that good. Like a Super Bowl upset!

Confidential to Jack: I interpreted your text message to mean you would have taken the safe bet. Didn't your mama teach you to believe in the underdog? For shame!