My fabulous, wonderful, charming, hilarious, inappropriate friends gave up their Saturday for me today. It was a bold and dramatic gesture which few can handle (Zoe paid her dues tenfold last year) and some are still in for tomorrow. Yikes.
My job requires that I spend 5 weekends at a play on top of a mountain. It's a bizarre yearly ritual that I've spent the past 4 years working on, and people are starting to get the drift of what I need in a play guest.
Wine. Cheese. Kisses. Cookies. Water.
In that order.
I work 12 hour days (once a year). Sue me.
I'm so tired, I couldn't even muster the energy to act like I was going out tonight.
Which is when I realized my reputation was starting to take over.
After my beloved crew left, I headed to the t-shirt booth where my favorite Board Members hang and where I was supposed to be working.
"Oh my god, fellas. I'm so tired."
"So where are you going tonight?"
"I'm not going out."
"I'm not! I can't! I have to be here at 8am tomorrow!"
"I still call bullshit. Anyway, I heard from Dopey that we're going to some gay club with you and Melissa. How come we didn't meet this famous Melissa?"
"It's not a gay club, it's Le Club, we're not doing that tonight and Melissa was working next to you in the t-shirt booth at intermission. Are you retarded."
(Yeah. I call my boss's boss a retard.)
"Don't lie to me. You're so going out."
Either rehab is right around the corner or I'm home tonight.
It's 8:34. I had a glass of wine in the bath. I watched half of Chocolat. I'm waiting for it to get dark so I can justify going to bed. And there's a little 2 page Vanity Fair article and a dicey celebrity sex dream in my future. I just know it!
While I'm having sappy blog day, I would just like to say that when it comes to real, true, magnificent, gorgeous, push comes to shove friends... my cup runneth over.
I love you bitches...