The life of an internet celebrity isn’t all that different from your own. No, really. Shitty things happen, there are fun perks in the mundane and then I give myself a tiara.
I pretended to be a corporate event planner at a hotel showcase (read: open bar) with my mother tonight. Her
my mother is overly adorable.
coworker was unable to attend and she didn’t want to go alone. The signature cocktail involved pear vodka, apple juice and lime – and was outright horrendous. Conveniently, it was also very strong.
Perk: Getting hit on by Hyatt sales managers is a very good time.
Speaking of that mama of mine, I introduced her to you with my fancy press-release skills on Sunday in what, quite frankly, might be the funniest moment of my life. Seriously, let the ego jokes rip, y’all; I was hyyyyyysterical. I promise, however, she is in fact NOTHING like Dina Lohan. Despite being the cutest baby ever (you know I was), she never once allowed me to model or do any commercials. Say what you will, we could totally all be living in Barbie’s dream house now if she did, mmmk?
Perk: Y’all, for real, my mama is incredible and I am SO glad to share this space with her. I can’t wait to hear what she says. About me. (God, I love the ego jokes. LOVE, I say.)
betsy gave me the squint-eye right until the last moment, as i was leaving. of course.
Spending the week up in Athens with Sally and Kit was ridiculously fun. Those crazy kids really are some of my all-time favorite people, and I’m totally showing back up in a month when I manage to overschedule myself into a tizzy. Like it’s not going to happen, immediately. Right.
Perk: The pups are SO happy I’m home they’re being all lovemuffin snuggly. I haven’t gotten an errant paw to the face during dog assault playtime in weeks.
I have apparently developed an interesting reaction to Benadryl. I am, and always have been, allergic to cats, despite owning them myself, and Betsy the Bitchface is no different. Pathetic with sniffles and teary eyes, sitting on the floor next to my cell phone charger, talking to my geek, Sally handed over the magical pink pills. Next thing we knew, I was producing ridiculous posts and unable to finish sentences for the shiny distractions on the television.
Perk: I’m sure it will surprise no one to learn that I gesture a great deal when I talk. Apparently my gestures ALSO get slow when my brain does, and I found myself with my hands in mid-air, a good few minutes after my mouth stopped speaking, over and over again.
As you all now know, since I’ve beaten you over the head with the information, I bought some pretty kick-ass boots this week. They are, of course, made for much more than walking, and, really, might just be for making these gams look hotter than they ever have. Unfortunately, it will probably cost more than twice what I paid for them to get them professionally cleaned. Which I so have to do, as they are really narsty on the inside.
these boots were also made for camouflage, when i need to hide in sally & kit's carpet.
Perk: They are more magnificent than any of the wonderful shoes my sister owns – which is a trend in my life right now I am so all about maintaining – and thus provide excellent currency for getting some of the fancy clothing and jewelry in HER collection to defect and join my team.
This past weekend I worked a wedding for a friend, doing everything from fancy-folding napkins to guest-wrangling to boutonniere-pinning to identifying which twin babygirl was which by the initial on her hairbow. I was offered pot, sex and to have ‘a good word’ put in for me by guests – for no real discernible reason. It was hot, understaffed, fun, awful and paid – which is good, remember, because I have a particular affinity for the cash monies. And then I managed to cut myself on the champagne foil, stick my fingers into burny hot tea candle wax and wake up the next day eleven shades of HOLY FUCK I’M SORE.
Perk: I then crowned myself (once again, this is a recurring theme in my life) queen of the stupid minor injuries, adding that night’s pains to the massive bruise on my thigh, tiny not-healing cut on my temple and the random chunk of foot that decided to remove itself from my sole. My tiara is beautiful.
My fabulous geek just got all the more fabulous: Using my site as an example of her fabulosity landed her a new freelance gig. Which is all grand, really, since she’ll get paid cash monies by these folks and I just send her baked goods. Except. Now I’m all competing with the job I GOT HER for her time. This does not strike me as equitable. And so I’m pouty.
Perk: She does, indeed, work for baked goods. (FOR ME, not for you. Tough shit.) Which is the sweetest deal I’ve ever negotiated.
Say, wanna buy some beachfront property?