My Name's Not Susan. But Your's Is! I Think.


I think it's safe to say that yesterday was QUITE the interesting one.

You see, I have managed to keep to myself for the past three days the glorious, blissfully surreal fact that I got a new job. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am once again finding myself in the ranks of the employed masses. And yesterday was my first day.

And what a day it was. The people at this new company are so heinously cool, I was pinching myself every hour. I mean, after working in the environment in which Roger Corman lords over you the fact that you can be fired any second, and then frequently executes said lording (a lot), it's kind of nice to be in a place where I don't slip into the kitchen because I hear Roger coming down the hallway. I heard three more of my former co-workers got shit-canned last week. (One of them the chick who replaced me.) I suppose I should have been concerned when, after my one year anniversary of working there, I was patted on the back by many a coworker, saying things like "Wow. A year. You're practically a lifer."

But no matter. Everyone here is just so cool. And there are just so... many of them. I met so many damn people yesterday, that when they come in on Monday wearing different clothes I'm going to be handily screwed remembering their names. And the best part is, that I have to know who's coming in and out of the office, where they are, and if they have their cell phone. There's a notebook that the front desk workers keep beside the phone in a somewhat orderly manner that lists who's in, who's out and all the various and necessary yada. And then in walks me, who doesn't know Stan from Mable writing things in it like "Guy in blue button down--at lunch--has cell." And "Chick at ext. 122--left for day--oh wait, is back. Oh wait, is actually at ext. 137."

So needless to say that it was a crazy, head-spinning experience. And I know that like every job, I'll be hating it at times and loving it at times, and watching the clock like that's what I was getting paid for at times, but right now--I have a job. And that's a good feeling.

So good a feeling, in fact, that I decided to have an impromptu celebration at the Saddle Ranch on Sunset Blvd last night in revelry.

A lot of people couldn't make it, being that I gave everyone roughly 24 hours notice, but still managed to party like rock stars (and with rock stars) late into the night. Jessica, Lauren, and Carrie were sweet enough to come and throw back a beer with me, even though Jessica and Lauren had to leave early the next day for an opposite-of-envious 7 hour drive the next morning. My Step Sister and her friend Marci drove down from Pasadena to join in the festivities (and their first Sunset Strip jaunt), and also Rave came out to party, and was wearing her drinking shoes. The kind that carry you home at 3am when you insist on leaving Denny's right after Slip and Dr. No order because you feel sick, would rather throw up at home, and only live 4 blocks away. Luckily, she was sober enough to find my number on her cell phone and talk to me the entire way until she got to her front door and I felt comfortable hanging up and letting her throw up all over her own kitchen floor instead of Denny's'.

But before that, many cool things happened at the Saddle Ranch. Not the least of which was that Michael Rosenbaum, Lex Luthor himself was at the bar, and looked really, really good. Really good. Very good, you guys. Wow. Anyway, not long after that spotting, Jessica, Lauren and Carrie retired, and I decided that I would ride the mechanical bull.

Here's a little advice on mechanical bull riding: It cannot be done gracefully. You may tell yourself that you're going to tame that bull and either ride it into submission, or gracefully and athletically dismount, but it cannot be done. For one thing, mechanical bulls have, I think, a slight advantage in the spinning department that live bulls just don't. Mechanical bulls couldn't care less about a living breathing bull's center of gravity and the impossible inertia they exert by being attached to the floor in only one place. The centrifugal force alone from that bugger is quite nasty and impossible to fight.

I did quite well. In fact, people were cheering quite loudly as I rode out the bucks of the mechanical bull, but that son of bitch starting spinning really fast, and I flew off the top of that sucker like a rag doll. When I later asked my sister if I looked at least a little bit graceful in my dismount, she only looked at me a moment, decided she wouldn't lie, and said "No. Not at all. It was bad."

Thus ended my fledgling bull-riding career. But not before meeting an actor named Aaron, who was standing next to me at the corral while his talldrinkofwater friend Matt was getting on the bull, trying his luck.

Aaron pointed at his friend proclaimed "that's my buddy!" and then turned to me, pointed, and said "YOU need to ride the bull." Upon telling him that I already had, we got talking and cheering for Matt, who I didn't mind telling Aaron was cute and tall and doing really well until the bull started spinning. Aaron took it upon himself to introduce us, and suddenly I was his good friend Susan. Later, I told Matt that my name was actually Slip and we had quite a great conversation. But of course, as always turns out when I meet a really cute guy who's tall and nice and successful--he lives in Arizona and is only in LA for the weekend. Ah, well.

After that, my sister and her friend left, and Dr. No, Rave and I decided to hit up The Standard and get even more drinks that they didn't need (I was driving and had stopped after two beers). Where things got kind of confusing when we lost Dr. No on his way to the bathroom, and Rave decided to ask a guy from Finland if he was actually from Ann Arbor, because Dr. No was convinced he went to high school with him.

The night ended with Moons Over My Hammy in Westwood and Dr. No writing a journal entry that somehow managed to leave out all of the pertinent information of the night. Save for the fact that he was really, REALLY drunk.

Perhaps he can remedy that later.

"Carrie: Slip, there's Michael Rosenbaum.

Me: WHERE'S MICHAEL ROSENBAUM?!?!

Carrie: Right next to you.

Me: Oh."

2003-08-02 9:41 a.m.

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