The Weekend

the highlights (or lowlights if you're not impressed)...in reverse:

Monday Morning:

everyday, i hear the mindless chatter of the commercial clients, waiting to record their voiceover auditions. normally it's boring or abstract conversations, but today it was superbowl talk. a few of them discuss the usual, "it was a good game, commercials yada yada..." then one of the dudes tragically reveals how he was so excited to TiVo the big game and watch it delayed. he ordered his chinese food, sat down at 6:30 (game was at 3:30 on the westcoast), clicks on his TiVo and BAM, he had taped FOUR hours of PRE-SHOW and not even a second of the actual game. hahahaha. aaaah that's great. poor fool. it was a good game. but to his demise, he said he didn't bother to check the time or ask anyone. it's TiVo...it's got times on it...obviously human error was key.

Sunday:

so exhausted from saturday, that i could barely get out of bed before noon. some friends and i were supposed to hit up a bar at 11:30 and drink like we were in college for six hours. after numerous phone calls back n forth we agreed to be lame and forget the bars in favor of beds or couches. it was rainy too. i managed to motivate by 2 PM and headed over to an apartment gathering of some friends of friends. *crazy*

it was definitely an L.A. superbowl party when i noticed that all the girls were drinking beer and atleast half the guys were drinking mixed drinks or individually made martinis (sour apple too).

the friends that threw the gathering, are a young married couple...i found out near the end that the guy had bet 5,000 dollars on the game (for NE). the Pats had to win by 6 points for them to win 10,000 bones. well the Pats only won by 3, so dude definitely lost 5,000 dollars. but everyone kept saying they lost 10,000. OHMIGOD. you would think they'd invest that $$ or put it towards a down payment. but no. he put it on a football game. and if they won, they were going to spend the winnings on a group trip to Vegas. *denied*. the guys drowned their sorrows by smoking cigars and pot. the wife was far too "not pissed" by my standards. i mean you could tell she wasn't happy with the situation, but i would have thrown something at him. like a knife.

Saturday:

went to sleep late on friday, got up early and semi-dolled myself up for the SAG Awards. drove downtown to the Shrine, parked, picked up my credential by 11:15 and proceeded to waste time til 1:30. chatted with the other photographer messengers and meandered about the red carpet and set. this year's event was more dificult b/c of security. apparently they hired a reputable nark squad this year or something, so the rent-a-cops were making it very difficult for us assistants to do our job.

Security-R-Us didn't seem to understand our very important purpose. which is, "ogle at celebrities until the photographers need us to transfer their digital photo disks from the red carpet up to the deadline photo room. repeat until award show begins."

the SAG show is set up in the expo hall of the shrine, not the theatre, so that means the photo room is set up on the third floor lobby rather than the back parking lot... so i deem this the STAIRS Show. up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs, down the stairs. after six hours of that, i realized other people were taking the elevator. FUCK! why didn't i think of that?!?! *idiot.* i thought that was reserved for the talent...or not.

once i started using the elevator, i noticed someone with a worse job than faux security squad. elevator man. this guy had to sit in the elevator and wait for people to enter and would press the button for them/us. when no one was using the elevator, he had to sit inside with the doors closed, staring at the wall and four buttons. he was there for atleast seven hours! when i politely asked him what he did to possibly deserve the worst job position of the day, the cute old man revealed how he grew up with a multitude of siblings/wife/children....so he welcomed the quiet hum of the elevator. to each his own, floor three please.

the show went well, saw the usual suspect celebs...in summation: starr jones is still fat, the real atresses are still thin and gorgeous, the actors are still remarkably short, i managed not to gorge myself on catered food and still "obtained" about 60 dollars worth of fresh flowers from the set. (something i like to do at every show i help out with).

went to rocco's to catch up on desperate housewives and alias. got home late, superbowl tomorrow!

Friday:

work blew...was the longest day of the week, seemed like atleast 45 hours. went to the gym after work. the annoying trainer guy was working again. i don't think i've blogged about him before...basically he's a weirdo, he's short, with a napoleon complex and thinks i'm a bitch b/c i don't talk to him. i don't talk to anyone at the gym. get over it.

decided to stop by Albertsons on the way home to pick up a few things. note: i was wearing my yoga pants (tighter than i'd prefer) with my red, Dale Earnheardt Jr. Nascar baby tee = classy. i roll my cart up to the veggie aisle and there's a grocers produce delivery thing in my way, some worker guy comes up, apologizes b/c it's in my way and strolls off. no big deal.

fast forward 15 minutes and i'm over in the dairy section. the same worker dude strolls over to me and reveals a single red rose (obviously a reject from the floral section). i'm confused, but he hands it to me and says it's a "thank you for making his night." uuuuuum, (*panic*confusion*) "thanks, that's really nice of you." he asks my name (*red flashing lights*), i tell him my real name. DOH. *awkward pause*. i ask his name, "RICKY". "well thanks again, later Ricky." he smiles and walks off. bewildered, slightly flattered, and mad that my ass is so prominent in my yoga pants, i stupidly grab two yogurts i hate, just to get the hell outta there.

i stick the rose in my purse and continue toward the checkout. my only thoughts are, "well, that means the only guys to have ever given me flowers in 25 years are: my dad, a non-english speaking valet in DC, a spanglish-speaking valet in LA and now Ricky from Albertsons." i never even got one of those lame carnation candy-grams in high school. maybe it's b/c no flowers match my beauty. aaaaaaah hahahahahahaha. *right*.

it gets better. so i'm at the checkout when none other than my new Albertsons boyfriend, Ricky, strolls by, oggling and saying again how nice it was to meet me and how he hopes i have limes for the corona i'm buying. "Already got 'em at home...(with my very strong boyfriend)." the checkout and bagger guys are confused as to how we are friends. me too.

i roll my shit to my car, open the trunk and load the bags....vrrrrrrrrrrrooom vrrrroom, NICE MEETING YOU AGAIN MISSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! alarmed, i turn around and yep, there's Ricky, in his white pinto or whatever the fuck it was, driving past, but sure to get his last word in. ***STALKER ALERT*** he zooms off with a grin and i frantically try to hide what type of car i drive. luckily my trunk lid was up so he doesn't have my license plate number. i sat in my car for a good 10 minutes to give him a headstart to wherever the hell he was going. convenient how his shift ended right then.

anyway, i made it home okay, locked my doors and put the runt rose in water. i thought of throwing it away, but it's not the flower that needs the restraining order. now don't get me wrong, it was a nice gesture, and quite unexpected... but end it there buddy. if i was interested i would have put down the package of butter and continued a conversation. but i didn't. the grocery store is not the new match.com hotspot. don't stalk people! Congratulations Ralphs, i'm not going to Albertsons for a while.

stayed up late watching "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." (getting tips for when i run out of milk and bread). SAG Awards tomorrow.

Posted by missy at February 7, 2005 10:11 AM