The Moneymaker

Uh. I'm really tired. For all intents and purposes of covering my ass, I will state that I have been a diligent, devoted work slave the entire duration of my employment. But between you and me (there could only be like 6 of you, tops), I've never been SO consumed by work as I have been in the past two weeks. In addition to assisting three sales reps and the president, I've been feverishly writing letters, composing contracts, booking flights, shuffling meetings, ordering flowers, NOT reading the blogs, mailing issues, preparing Powerpoint presentations, crying over my bank statement, falling into an Excel black hole, and feeling the rapid aging effects of sitting at a desk for prolonged periods of time. My hips and knees have been cracking so much, I may need to just start eating the whole box of Viactiv calcium chews in one sitting.

But enough about that. The parts of the past week that have not sucked include:

- A Saturday night trip to Polk Street, complete with a birthday crown (and scepter), Skinny Bitches with a massive amount of cherries (that's vodka Diet Coke to those who don't know me that well), a cute boy that was a total douchebag (just my type), and a bar set ablaze at midnight (apparently this happens every night at Bigfoot Lounge - who knew?)

- A photoshoot on the same night with Whitney that included poses inspired by Lindsay, Paris, LC, and various others. The only problem with doing this after 4 Skinny Bitches and Vodka Sodas is that I can't decipher who I was impersonating in any of the pictures now. Every expression looks the same - tipsy.

- An e-mail/MySpace exchange with none other than my favorite radio crush (Dr. Drew is exempt from this over-arching statement because my affection for him is on a level of its own), Stryker! Sure, it was mostly about work, but still. It's the little things that count.

- A Sunday shoe-shopping trip with my lovely Shana. Granted, they were workout shoes and not fun, sexy Christian Laboutins, but whatever. Shana Time is Shana Time.


On a sad note, I don't have a Cab Driver of the Week because both cab drivers I had on Saturday night were strangely silent. To be fair, I didn't initiate much conversation, but I was still a little disappointed. But in lieu of an individual driver, I salute National Cab for always picking me up at my house even though I live on the edge of the Earth. Thanks, National Cab.

Only 51 hours and 27 minutes left until the weekend!