The Devil Wears Blue Jeans in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Everything and nothing going on. I sometimes feel like I should stop posting for a while because all these entries sound the same. Work is fabulous. Love life sucks. I love the travel, but hate coming back here where I have no one but my cat. If you look back a year, two years, three years in my journals you’d see much of the same to varying degrees…although the work and love life stuff would flip-flop. But still. I feel like I’m just surviving here. Just going through motions. Just being. Not doing.

I suppose I should finish the story of Mr. Serendipity. Because it ended just as oddly as it began. In my last entry, I noted that he’d mistakenly dialed my number in the middle of the night last Friday night. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and didn’t even mention it when he called on Sunday to see if I wanted to go to brunch with him. Of course, by the time I called him back, he’d already eaten. So we ended up making plans to go out the Tuesday after next (because I was out of town last week). And that I’d meet him at a place close to work. Fine.

Welllll. I had a super early flight to LA on Monday, and I had to leave even earlier because I was going to pick up one of my co-workers. As I lay in bed on Sunday night, just on the brink of waking up to check the clock, I heard the phone ring. It was 3:15. I fell back to sleep thinking I was just hearing things. But then I heard it again. I got up knowing that it had to be an emergency. Who would call at 3:15 if it wasn’t an emergency (I certainly don’t have any booty callers at this point)? One look at the phone told me that it was Max calling. Ass. He knew I needed to get some sleep before I left. I didn’t pick up. This time it wasn’t an accident. He left a message. It was some kind of drunken slur that I couldn’t really make out, but I did detect my name in there somewhere.

The phone kept ringing and ringing! After his fourth call, I picked up the phone and practically screamed, “DO NOT CALL ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!!!”

And I could hear him laugh and then he very drunkenly asked, “why not?”

I was livid. I answered with, “DO NOT call me at all. Ever again.”

Click.

Sure enough. He waited 15 minutes and called again. I was up and getting ready at that point. I ignored it, but realized that I might have to change my mobile phone number. Soon.

Luckily, he hasn’t called again, knock wood. But I did get an email from him when I got back into the office on Thursday. It was dated Tuesday. All it said was, “Thanks for showing up!!!!” as if I’d actually meet him for lunch after that whole debacle…and dumbass, you got the date wrong anyway! It was supposed to be the following Tuesday!

Freak.

I was exhausted on Monday. I’m getting really good at navigating the Los Angeles sprawl. Pounded the pavement with two of my co-workers. It was a couple of days of trudging followed by a couple of evenings of fun dinners and even more fun cocktails.

Went to the ultra hip bar in the Viceroy on Tuesday night. What a scene for a Tuesday. Saw Sandra Bernhart and what appeared to be her girlfriend sitting on one of the couches just checking everyone out and whispering to each other. Met some guys in the music biz. Actually, not only met them, but hung out with them all night. Long story, but we ended up going with them to get something to eat only to find out that all the kitchens in Santa Monica were closed by the time we finally got out and about. Went back to the Viceroy for a nightcap. Called it a night after realizing that the one guy just wanted to get in someone’s pants. He obviously didn’t care who’s. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. I watched him drink about 10 martinis on an empty stomach. Time to go home.

Came back to work on Thursday to find an email from them. They’re sending me some CDs to check out. Cool.

I suppose it’s not all bad that my work is my only life. Seriously. At this point, I pretty much only go out when I’m working. I go out with vendors or co-workers and people in the business. But still, the benefits can be fun. And free!

The problem is, I’m always too tired to do anything just for me. I got an invitation last night to attend a photo studio gallery opening. It sounded like a lot of fun, but I decided to see how I was feeling when I got home. By the time I made my way home, I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower and the works. I just didn’t have the energy to get myself up and out. I didn’t even have the energy to answer the phone when it rang. It was Philip calling to see where I was. Don’t ask who Philip is. It’s not important.

And it’s now Saturday. And I still need to work this weekend. I’m going to go out and grab a bite to eat before heading into the office. Sure, it’s a glamorous job at times. But damn. It’s my whole life.

On a related note, just read The Devil Wears Prada. Light and somewhat annoying read. I found myself rolling my eyes time and time again, but a lot of it rings very, very true to me. I imagine that most of the people who still read this diary find my crap just as annoying and eye-roll worthy.