Set a timer for 12 minutes and let’s see what comes out before then because right now on the blog, if only considering latest posts, it looks at though I haven’t written in days and that’s simply not the case.
There’s too much going on right now. Freaking lady texting my phone, my Google voice number to be specific, talking about she got approval from the client for us to arrive on-site thirty minutes prior to originally scheduled. She’s all in different group messages with passive aggressive attempts to get a confirmation. Ma’am, thank you, glad to know we can arrive early and be paid; if I arrive at the earlier time, pay me. If I don’t, I’m not about to set myself up for you to penalize me. Please, gtf.
A text, well, multiple texts, could seem minuscule, but it’s her and my fellow promotional specialist texting me individually on the side that had me trying to calculate and decide that caused me to walk out of the house WITHOUT my freaking keys.
I always check multiple times for my door key before walking out of the door. I moved in late September, it’s early February, that’s a full four months that I’ve been living in my first solo apartment, ripping and running and ain’t neva forgot my keys befo’.
I’m annoyed. Leave me tf alone, especially when I’m not on the clock, especially when I already have to allocate a substantial amount of time to sourcing and submitting for the gigs to get them in the first place.
My nails look very cute. I won’t get too giddy though, seeing as they never last. I need to go back to that one nail shop near the Target headquarters in Minneapolis with the good builder gel that stayed pristine for weeks! This little low-cost nail shop on Melrose on holds me over for five minutes. Sh-t.
I had to get ‘em done though, last-minute, finding possibly better, longer-lasting services elsewhere wasn’t an option.
Twelve-minute timer went off. Shoot. It’s 2:22p. Aw, that’s my boy Blake’s birthday, 2/22. I only know and remember because he has said it multiple times, after having thrown an elaborate party with his lifelong bestfriend, Lucky. I did a post about their party, just to write about something.
I wonder if the guy sitting across from me is [bends wrist] [spins hand] [snaps finger]. There’s something attractive about always seeing him in the library
But yeah, I had to get my nails done, feet pedicured and coochie waxed yesterday in the event that I would’ve seen my crush last night. I was ready to go with my move, if he led with his. Hahahahaha! All I do is talk smack when it comes to that.. ion be ‘bout nan. Last night though, I was prepared to prove it to myself.
Calvin, my best guy friend, said “nah, you missed your chance.. you randomly saw him last time, you ain’t bouta randomly see him again.. two times in a row?!” What a party pooper. I tried to explain to Calvin that it was a possibility because whoopty whoop and whopty whop.
“Yeah, maybe he’s thinking she might be there tonight and will go in hopes to see you too.” I immediately giggled. “You see how dumb that sounds,” Calvin continued.
Well, Calvin was right. My man wasn’t there. And that’s what really started this shitty situation I’m in, locked out of my house with a gig to go to soon.
I had everything in my bag, except my freaking house key. So, I came to the library, as I’d already planned, running late to meet up with a girlfriend. Ugh.
Stayed out late, stayed in bed late, running late, folks texting my phone, too much going on.
Okay, if I have to be at the Clippers arena by 5pm and I don’t want to pay for rideshare, I need to leave my house no later than 3:15pm. At least I’m showered and clean.
Should I leave on this turban or throw on my wig? Hm, I’m not sure it’s worth my while of my skull being squeezed. I’ll definitely stay for the basketball game, the same way that I did last time, the first time, that I worked a liquor activation before a Clippers’ home game in L.A.
Then, I went to sleep last night thinking, is the entertainment industry one big sex-trafficking ring? WTF is really going on?! Let me not open up that can of worms and stick to my work, stay out the way. Child. Strange. All these folks.
Later, another alarm is going off. I gotta go, get out this library, get home (get in, grrrr) and to Inglewood before the game.