The cool cats and hot chicks in my life that sip martinis, drink cappuccinos and read bad poetry. We don't live a lifestyle, we live life...with style.
10 October 2012
Day 28 (Originally Published 19 Jan 2009)
I am still trapped in Christmas Land and I see no hope of escape.Everywhere I look there’s an elf, Santa, noel, candy cane, tinsel, garland, coloured balls or little villages.And now, the world beyond my holiday hell has betrayed me.The barred windows that usually gave me a small bit of optimism completely destroyed that sanguinity.I awoke today to a vision that drained all hope from my already darkened heart.Snow.Snow had enveloped the world outside my windowpanes.Even the very skies above are a ceiling of clouds, denying the sunshine, the light, the hope to enter my saturnine world.Everywhere I look, there’s an evil whiteness covering the Earth.The trees.The hedges.The roofs.The cement.The beaches.A blanket of dampening snow to cover the world outside.I am alone.All desire to live and flourish is slowly draining away.
I am trapped in Christmas Land from within and without and I see no hope of escape.Or release.
Okay, that’s a bit too exaggerated but not by much.Yes, the psycho-mate has yet to take down the bloody Xmas decorations that litter the ENTIRE penthouse (save my room and the little bathroom, thank the gods).Maybe, just maybe, he’ll begin the dismantling today.
Got to work on Friday, after getting my mobile turned back on and I began checking my text messages.And there it was.I received a text from Douglas (Miss Patti’s boytoy) informing me that my ex, Joe (the love of my life), was out at the Westside Lounge the evening before.
Well, I took a few moments (an hour) of freaking the fuck out trying to digest that bit of news.Then I spent the rest of my twelve-hour shift hearing about his visit from everyone who was there on Thursday night and the things he said about me.What made it worse was when I found a note from him when I put the money in the register.I won’t detail what he wrote but safe to say, I didn’t need to read what was written.It was nice but I just didn’t need it.
The rest of the night found me looking towards the door, wondering if he was going to show up again.Thankfully he didn’t.I would like to see him again but I’d rather know when he was coming, to mentally prepare.If you couldn’t tell, I still have deep feelings for him.
Well, as I said, he never came by and the night went well.Saturday came and I spent the night fielding phone calls and text messages from everyone wanting to come by for the late night, which was canceled by management on Wednesday.Which sucked.Big dick.Badly.I had hoped that a few people would come anyway so I didn’t pester them to shut until after ..four o’clock.. in the morning, our usual closing time.No dice, word was out and no one came by.I closed and went home.
Sunday came and I decided to hibernate, not leaving my little room except for bodily functions and food.I found myself sleeping most of the time, I guess my body needed the rest.And then today, I woke to the bloody snow!I did my routine although I was surprised to find that I was the first customer at Brittany’s this morning.I am getting there earlier and earlier, which I guess I should have expected being first since I was up at five in the morning and waited around in bed until they opened at seven.
I have been reading “The Devil Wears Prada” by Lauren Weisberger.It’s an advance copy that they gave to book reviewers which is odd to read because some of the details have “UK” or “TK” in their place because they hadn’t been researched and confirmed yet.The book is highly entertaining, though, and the movie follows the book quite closely.Having an inside track, through my friend Jonathan who’s an editor at Vogue, is an added benefit.He has told me that the book is very close to reality.And that the character of Miranda Priestly, the Editor-in-Chief of the fictional magazine, Runway, in the book is exactly like his boss, Anna Wintour, who runs Vogue.The “devil” wearing Prada, as the title implies.
Time to get a bit of lunch and then maybe post this entry to my journal.
I am a life long resident of this little island on the east coast of New Jersey and I am the walking representation of Atlantic City. Which doesn't say much for the city. I'm a professional party guest.