Wherever I Go

Tonight I went to a housewarming party for a partner at the firm at which Counselor works. It was a little awkward at first. It always is stepping into a new situation but this was odder than normal because I went with Counselor. Now to both of us, it wasn't necessarily a big deal but when he shows up with a new girl in a work-party situation, it kinda made for some head turns. I was only asked by a couple of people if I was his girlfriend. I said to one of them, "I've known him for a long time," bypassing the actual question. "We're friends," I told the other. He told me later that night after we left the party that he got asked that too. He made some joke like I was his concubine. I actually think that's funny. 

There was one uncomfortable point at the party though. I was standing with Counselor and another couple when the host, one of the law partners, comes over and grabs him. I just figured they were going to talk shop. Turns out he introduced Counselor to a girl. I only know this because he came back and told all of us in the circle what had just happened. Unfortunately for Counselor, the girl was friends with one of his last conquests so it was, in his words, "uncomfortable." But for me it was uncomfortable because even though I'm not his girlfriend, I was the girl he brought to the party and the way I was completely discounted was a little disconcerting. One of the guys Counselor works with looked at me as if to gauge my reaction. I just smiled. It's small moments like this that make me realize how utterly unimportant my presence is to him. 

After the party we went to meet up with some of the group at Red Rock Casino. Turns out one of the attorneys hosted a New Year's Eve party I went to years ago, the one where I kissed Cleveland Mike. That was a great New Year's Eve. I really liked him and I'm betting we would have had a great love affair had he not moved. Yard House was fun.  We had a couple drinks, couple cigarettes & fun conversation. At one point we were sitting next to this older man who was there by himself. Counselor in - typical fashion - strikes up a conversation with man. At first he seemed harmless, an odd bar recluse. Then he started to kind of hit on Counselor so I thought, ok, he's gay. No prob. Then Counselor excuses himself to go to the bathroom and I'm stuck talking to the hippy. No worries until he starts hitting on me. I know this should have been an ego boost but trust me, it wasn't. Being hit on by a crazy, non-tax playing, pseudo-bi-sexual intellectual that looks like Willie Nelson is not an ego boost. It makes me want to take a shot gun to either my head or his. Blech. When Counselor got back and I whisper in his ear, "Get me outa here." So he did. We tell crazy-man that we're going out to smoke and don't come back.

When we were smoking Counselor says, "Amy I'm worried about who's gonna pay this tab." Apparently, and I'm not sure why I'm only now finding this out, a lot of attorneys are broke degenerates. Or maybe it's just his friends. At the height of the night there were prob 10 of us there so the tab in full was prob around $300. "C said he's paying for it," I told Counselor. "Amy, I loaned C $300 the other day to get by." Christ. I don't know how many people Counselor is helping "get by" but it's at least 2. His buddy who used to work at that same firm and got fired (the guy who also got us back in touch) called him earlier in the day to ask for $100 wired Sunday to the Walmart in South Carolina where he's golfing with buddies. I used to think Counselor just had a big heart and was just a sucker for a charity case  - that's why he helped so many people -  but I'm beginning to think he does it to appease his own ego and to convince himself he's needed, wanted and necessary to these guys. Almost a penance. And the sad part is Counselor doesn't exactly have a bankroll to handle all of this charity work. He told me how much he makes; he's doing ok but with big-time law school debt and no family money he needs to think about his own finances before shelling out hundreds of dollars a month to support his friends. We talked about it. He knows he needs to stop. Hell, I could care less. It's not my money. I just don't like seeing my friends do destructive things. But it is a strange paradox. He'll give people the shirt off his back (or $500 from his bank account as it were) but I can't depend on him to show up when he tells me he's going to be there. 

We went to get away from the group and sat at the Sportsbook bar. He was feeling no pain by then. I can always tell when he's drunk. He gets touchy-flirty and his bottom lip pops out when he smiles at me like he's pouting. He apologized to me again for what happened in the past. I let him. It wasn't that I needed to hear it again but I think he needed to say it for himself. He admitted to me that while he never asked me for anything he took a lot emotionally. He started to tell me how he feels about me, "Amy, you have a great personality..." I immediately stopped him. I didn't want to, or need to, hear anything more. Saying of a girl, "You have a great personality," is akin to the male version of "He's a nice guy." If ever there was any question of how he feels about me, that phrase said it all. Nothing. I known that for 10 years and it's moot now but when you finally hear it, it's still not fun. There's a tiny part of me that wants him to like me, to fall in love with me - maybe it's so I can break his heart or maybe I secretly still wish we'd live happy ever after. But it's there. No sense denying it. Better to deal with it head on like a grown up. I can't run away from it. Tried that and it didn't work. He just finds me. 

Not sure where I go from here. But Wherever I Go he's back in my life; I let him in. And I don't mind. He said he'd pick me up for church tomorrow and after, lunch, then dinner together later. I know better now though. I'm not waiting for him anymore and it feels wonderful. 

Happy People

I went to dinner with Counselor tonight. Well, technically, I had dinner. He just nibbled off my plate. After I text him an 'oops' about drunk dialing him last night he asked what I was up to this weekend and we ended up meeting at Seablue. It's funny. Despite not having been around him for over 4 years we picked up right where we left off. Things are a little different - we're both different - but there's a remarkable familiarity between us that will never go away. 

He asked me to go with him to a housewarming party of one of the partners in his law firm tomorrow night. I said I'd go to that if he went to dinner with my parents and me when they're in town in a week or so. Deal. I'm not sure what's happening with us and I'm not really concerned about it. Right now I think we're both just Happy People, maybe not fully happy with every aspect of our lives but happy to be in each other's lives again, to whatever degree. I'm a different person than I was 4 years ago, hell, 1 year ago. My perspective on things has changed and I'm no longer concerned with making other people happy. I'm all about making myself happy. If you want to hop on board, I promise you'll have a blast. The more the merrier. But if not, I've got zero time for you and will kick your ass off the train in a heartbeat. 

Drinking Again

Tonight I went to Brio Tuscan Grille with Zippy's wife Melissa. Had a great time with girl talk all night. I had four Sapphire martinis. Yeah, I'm Drinking Again. I forgot that after not imbibing for over a year the affects of liquor is pretty severe. I woke up with dry mouth, a splitting headache and a BlackBerry full of drunk dials to Counselor; he was a good sport about it. But I had a blast with Melissa. She's a lot of fun. I'm done making excuses & apologizing for my life. Instead I'm just living it. What else is there?

Relationship

People often ask me, "What exactly do you do at your job?" Technically I'm the Event Services Manager at the MGM Grand Garden Arena but what I really tell people is, "I handle things." Today was a good snapshot of a non-event day in the life. It started off with with meeting, after conference call, after conference call, after meeting. Some things got done, some things I managed to steer in another direction, some things were a complete waste of time. 

One of the things I spend time doing with my job is managing people's expectations, whether it's a guest's, a tour manager's, a boxing promoter's or an employee's. A great example is what happened today. One of the sponsors wants to do a red carpet for the fight. Some of the execs on our property were fully on board too. Sure, sounds good but when you dive into the minutia of it it's actually not a great idea. Fights are different animals than say, award shows, club openings, charity events, etc. So I spent the day managing what people wanted to do with the reality of what will actually happen and what the cost of that might be, both in dollars and in possible embarrassment - and trying to delicately (and not so delicately with people close to me) explain why. An idea can be great but if it's not executed at the right time in the correct scenario it's just a wasted opportunity - like drinking a great Châteauneuf-du-Pape after you're already drunk. Wasted opportunity. 

I also spend a lot of time regurgitating information. I'm not sure if it's actually part of my job or if it's just something I'm good at. I'm always funneling information I get back thru other channels kind of like one of those old fashioned change sorters. Dump it all in and the machine spits coins into the right categories. I guess it makes sense I'm good at that. I'm pretty fastidious. 

One of the most important aspects of my job is creating and maintaining relationships.  It is one of the things I like best about my job and probably the thing I'm best at. (Clearly it's not writing in grammatically correct sentences because I keep ending them with prepositions.) If you have a good Relationship with someone you can overcome anything. I can't tell you how many times my personal relationships with people have helped me solve problems. You're more apt to help a friend with whom you have a relationship than just some schmo and vice versa. And it makes the job more fun too. I'm not a boxing fan at all but some of the people who work in the industry are longtime friends so the events are like reunions. Same holds true for the ACMs, concerts, convention clients, you name it. It's all about relationships. 

Fireman

Going out with the hot Fireman, his best friend and the best friend's girlfriend for dinner tonight. Hmmm. Sounds a lot like a date... hell, even if it's not, who cares. He's a hot FIREMAN! 

The Great White Bear

The Great White Bear
by Kieran Mulvaney

I just got my friend Kieran Mulvaney's book The Great White Bear in the mail. I bought it on Amazon.com a couple days ago. I've been meaning to get it, not because I particularly want to read it but because I want to support my friend and I want him to inscribe something clever and thoughtful on the inside cover to me. Kieran's a great guy. Soft spoken Irish lad. He's one of my all-time favorite boxing writers who I didn't know until recently was primarily an environmental writer. It's probably a good thing I knew him as a sports writer first. I'm not big on saving the world.

I've also had a manuscript from a colleague sitting on my desk for about a month. I can't bring myself to read it. It's horrible of me to have it this long. I should care enough about him to want to read it but I'm just not motivated. I used to be ok with reading. I'd slam thru a Steve Martini book in a couple nights or on a long plane ride. But now I just don't have the patience, intent or desire to read page after page. Or rather, I don't have the will to actually start. Once I dive in, I'm sure I'll finish it but it's that first step of committing to reading that first chapter that's hard. Christ, you'd think I was talking about jumping out of an airplane. It's only a book for God's sake. But honestly, I'd rather go skydiving than read a book. I realize that's an unintelligent, classless thing to say and an even more idiotic thing coming from someone who's writing a blog - yeah, doesn't make much sense. 

But tonight at 11.59p I'm going to shut down my Mac and hop into bed with Kieran's book (how salacious). I'll put on my $20 Target reading glasses, not because I necessarily need them to see but because they make me feel smarter, more learned and maybe more inclined to get deep enough into his book that I'll actually finish it. 

I must respect this guy because he has no idea how much I loathe reading. This one's for you Kieran. Now where's that Jameson...

Easter Parade

Holy shit I'm going to church with Counselor this morning. Hey, at least I said 'holy.' Talk about an Easter Parade...


Around 8.00a this morning I sent a text to Counselor asking if he wanted to go to church with me for Easter. I didn't think he'd actually be up that early on a Sunday much less respond right away much less say sure he'd go. Just one of several things that shocked me today. He's Catholic but was a good sport and went to a Presbyterian church instead.


I pull into the parking lot at Green Valley Presbyterian Church and I saw him standing on the sidewalk checking his BlackBerry. I immediately smile. Crisp white dress shirt, pale blue striped tie, black slacks. Perfect. To me there's nothing better than a man in a white dress shirt and tie. I was early and he beat me there. Shocker #2. I thought for sure he'd either be late or wouldn't actually be there at all.


We walked in and took a seat in a pew on the house left side. The church is new, rustic beams in the ceiling but modern. Flatscreens all over too. Very non-traditional but it worked. I was a little worried we would have trouble finding a seat because it's Easter but there were plenty. I like sitting on the end so to the end we went. I like knowing I have an escape route.


As we're sitting there I see one of the arena Rock Docs and her hubby walk by. I say a quick hi. They're the only people I recognize, thankfully. The last thing I need is someone to try and recruit me.


The service was surprisingly smart. I'm used to the boring stories of how Christ rose from the dead, blah blah blah. But the pastor Kenneth Harper was a great speaker and kept my attention with contemporary, intelligent reasoning. No preachy-ness. To me he was more like a college lecturer than a pastor. My kind of God guy. I'll be back. Counselor said he like to come back too. It's actually just down the street from his church so we joked that we could alternate each Sunday going to his church, then mine. I know I'll go again. Him, I doubt it. Maybe but I doubt it. It would be nice to have someone who 'gets me' to go to church with though.


At the service they had a small horn trio and timpani drums along with the choir & handbells. Obviously I'm a big fan of the horns and loved hearing them play. I'm assuming they were only there because it was Easter much like back home at Central Presbyterian at Christmas. But I loved it nonetheless. The choir also sang great classics by Handel & Bach. I was so afraid they'd break out the electric guitars or tambourines in which case I told Counselor, "We're outa here."


Counselor and I both filled out the pew cards and stuffed offering envelopes. I don't know why but I was surprised by this (shocker #3). For some reason I thought he'd pass on that. I was glad he didn't.


The service ended and we walk out to the 75 degree Vegas weather. It really was a beautiful day. The kind of day that makes memories stand out more. We bumped into the Rock Dock again. Counselor is remarkably good at making conversation with people so he and the Rock Doc chatted a bit white I caught up with her hubby and his parents.


Counselor took me out to brunch at Green Valley Ranch after church. We had oysters, martinis and mahi-mahi. He was a bit shocked (this time it was his turn) that I ordered a martini but I wanted one. And I usually get what I want. I've been good for 389 days. I deserve one day to be bad. Oysters were great, mahi-mahi was so so, Sapphire martini was delish. I forgot how much I enjoyed them, and quite frankly, his company.


After lunch we hit the sportsbook to bet some horses. There are only 2 people I play ponies with: Counselor and Brener. I didn't hit anything, he hit on one of the last races at Hollywood. I was emailing Brener for tips. Of course most didn't win. But it's always fun to banter with Brener about horses so I didn't mind losing a couple bucks on his 3-6-9 box.


While Counselor was up at the betting window I make a quick call to my family to wish them a happy Easter. They were all at my parents' house. The phone made the rounds and I ended with my dad poking fun at me for actually going to church. "Did the ceiling crack?" he joked. "Nope, and lightening didn't strike me dead either. And I went with a Catholic." I love my dad. He's fun to joke around with. He's got a dry sense of humor.


Sometime around 3.00p Counselor's friend came to join us. He's a good kid, sober at this point, so it was entertaining to hear about his exploits from the night before. He's a bit out of control because he just broke up with his girlfriend, doesn't have job and is sleeping on his pal's couch but he'll be fine. He just needs to relax, focus and heal. Don't we all.


"Do you smoke cigars," Counselor asked. I do so I took it. It was pretty dried out but it wasn't bad. I love smoking cigars & blowing smoke rings. But that cigar led to cigarettes. I prob had 4 over the course of the late afternoon. Not terrible but unnecessary. I hole-heartedly admit I lost my will power on this one. But 4 cigarettes is not going to kill me so I'm not going to beat myself up about it.


6.00p-ish rolls around and we're hungry so the 3 of us head off to Pumi for sushi. That hit the spot. I could eat sushi every week. The sushi chef recommended "super white tuna" so we tried it. Possibly the most yummy sushi I've ever had. Like butter, creamy. Counselor flipped the bill for dinner too (shocker #4). He's pretty generous now. I just remember the days when he was broke and I paid for everything. It's nice to be taken care of sometimes.


After a bottle of sake and too many pieces of sushi to count we called it a night.


Church, oysters, cigar, martinis, ponies, cigarettes, sake & sushi. It was a great Easter. 

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

I saw Counselor last night. I got a call from his phone around 8.30p. It was actually his friend. They had just finished dinner at Mon Ami Gabi, one of Counselor's favorite places. In fact, it was where he and his ex-wife had their reception. His friend asked me to meet them out for a drink. We hemmed & hawed about a location. I said, "Maybe another night. How about next week." His pal kept at it and we settled on O'Aces. 

I threw on a pair of jeans and headed over. I was a little nervous. I hadn't seen Counselor since our impromptu dinner with J's family, sans J, back in October. And at that dinner we didn't really get a chance to talk because we were with J's daughter and parents. 

It actually ended up being a good night. Instantly it all came back to me how much fun I have with him, how alike (for better or worse) we are. At one point in the night his friend brought up the elephant in the room which is that Counselor and I haven't really spoken in years and that I've been avoiding him. It was true. I admitted it. I was heartbroken. I needed time to get over him. His buddy, already drunk, pulled us both in to hug and eventually kiss. It started with me kissing Counselor on the cheek, then a second one on his lips. I remember they were soft and I could feel his whiskers. A little awkward because his friend was in the middle of us but it felt uncomfortably familiar. 

At another point, and I don't really remember the sequence that all of this took place, his friend kept saying there was tension coming from me. I walked over to Counselor and hugged him to prove I didn't have any bad feelings toward him. He held me tight, rubbed my back and whispered, "I'm sorry Amy." I said, "I'm sorry too." Neither of us were innocent in what happened 5 years ago. I was simply the unlucky one who was in love with him and he didn't feel the same but went thru the motions anyhow. We held each other for a while, my hand resting on his chest. We fit well together. 

I learned a couple things during the 4 hours we spent. Stuff about his life he probably wouldn't love for me to share on a blog so I'll respect his privacy enough to leave it alone. But he's a little out of sorts. Yes, he broke my heart and yes I'm playing with fire by letting him back into my life on any level but I want to see him happy. We went over the full gamut of our dating status. I told him about M, at least parts of it. He told me about the girls he's been with. I think we're finally at a place where we're balanced in how we feel about each other. 

One thing that came up a couple of times was the fact I wasn't drinking or smoking. "I can't believe you're not drinking," his friend kept saying. It clearly bothered them more than me. When I'm out I don't really think about it at all. Now when they were smoking, I kinda wanted one of those. At a couple points in the night I wanted to light one up, not because I physically craved one but because I remember how I liked the feeling of it being in between my fingers. That was hard to stave off, especially when Smoke Gets In Your Eyes from them both smoking. But I didn't. And I'm pretty happy about that.

We ended the night like most. We made plans to go have lunch today at Mon Ami and then go bet the ponies. Of course none of that happened. He never called. I knew he wouldn't. For him making plans is a meaningless salutation like when you see someone and they ask, "How are you?" You really don't care or want to know; it's just something you say. Once I figured that out, I stopped being bitter about him standing me up. 

So I didn't waste a single moment today wondering when he was going to call - I knew he wasn't. Instead I did my 4 miles listening to Chris Botti, Jamie Cullum, Shirley Bassey, Maroon 5 & the Winans on my iShuffle and later took George Bennett for a long walk at the park. It was a great day. 

I Apologize

Tonight I got an apology. It's the apology I've been waiting 5 years for. It felt good but what I realized the instant I got it was that I never really needed it. What I needed was an apology from myself for being so hard on myself for falling in love with him to begin with. So here it is. Amy, I Apologize. 

Peeves

Here is a laundry list of just some of my pet Peeves. To add to the fun I've included things that escalate my peeves to outright fury. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Peeve: A lot = 2 words. Not alot. Fury: The point is "moot" not "mute."

2. Peeve: People who talk in elevators. Fury: People who stand in front of the doors waiting for the elevator. Hey moron, there's a 80% chance people have to EXIT the elevator before you can get on. Step to the side.

3. Peeve: People who cannot follow directions. Fury: People who need their hand held thru a task. Grow up, get a spine, learn something and be independent. Christ..

4. Peeve: People who wear too much cologne. Fury: People who insist on hugging or doing kissy face on the cheek - now I smell like your crappy cologne. Thanks.

5. Peeve: People who just pop in, unannounced. Fury: People who expect you to drop everything when they pop in, unannounced. There are only 5 people I care to ever see unexpectedly - chances are you're not one of those 5 people.

6. Peeve: Splitting the check by meals instead of just dividing it equally regardless of what you had. Fury: Insisting on individual checks. Cheap bastard. You look like an ass.

7. Peeve: People who won't use email. Fury: People who email me, "Can you call me." If I wanted to talk to you I wouldn't have ignored your original call that led you to email me, "Can you call me." Learn to use technology or move to the Brazilian Rainforest lame-ass.

8. Peeve: People who holler my name. Fury: People who try to have conversations thru the walls with me. Either get off your ass and come into my office and talk to me like a respectable human being or instant message me.

9. Peeve: Typing in all caps.  Fury: Marking an email "urgent" with the red exclamation. That doesn't make me respond any quicker. In fact, all it signifies is that you screwed up and whatever is in the email is the result of your lack of time management.

10. Peeve: People who print emails. Fury: Printing emails and bringing them to me to read. I already read them in my IN BOX, thanks. (See last sentence of #7.)

11. Peeve: Skip right to Fury. Fury: People who call me "Miss Amy." My name is Amy not Daisy and you're not Morgan Freeman. Stop fucking calling me Miss or Ms anything. 

When Will I Be Famous

So I have this idea to write every day for an entire year. The name of the blog is The Year of Botti but it's really just a collection of random thoughts, a record of what I'm feeling at any particular moment. Botti is the catalyst, a jumping off point, something to keep continuity, and an excuse to burn some discretionary money on travel & entertainment. He's as good an excuse as any.

Since music is my focus I'm trying to link the daily blog titles to songs that have meaning to me, then tie that meaning to the content of the blog. Oftentimes in reverse order. 

Since I'm not a writer it's actually not easy to write every day, or more accurately to come up with a topic everyday. Some days it just flies off my fingertips but other days I sit listening to iTunes hoping for inspiration. I've got about 10 drafts of incomplete thoughts sitting in limbo and 10 more posts that I'd like to publish but they'd either get me fired, get me disowned or get me killed, none of which sound appealing at the moment.

The plan is to go back after a year and see if I can piece together a story from the 365+ blogs and turn it into a manuscript. From there maybe a book or a screenplay. Then off to Hollywood to collect my Oscar wondering When Will I Be Famous. Seriously though, I'm doing this for my brother who is dying of cancer and might not live to read all 365 posts, for my parents who don't know me on this level because let's face it, who wants to tell their parents they're a failure at the things that really count in life and for my unborn child who might never become anything more than an unfertilized egg. A snapshot of my life important to no one but me. I won't know if I can compile the posts into anything until I read all of them in a year. I'm only 68 days into it though so I've got a long way to go. An exercise in discipline & creativity - neither of which I have much... but I'm gonna fake the hell out of it. 

Love

George Bennett

Furry friends make life better, don't they?

I brought the pooch into work with me today. I like bringing him when it's quiet and we don't have any shows in house. Hey, if parents can bring their rug rats to work with them, I can bring my dog. I guarantee he's cuter than 90% of your kids.

George Bennett is a good dog & pretty laid back. (Of course he is, he's my dog.) I like to let him run around on the floor of the arena. Because we have carpet down he can tear off in a full sprint after the ball. It's pretty funny actually, like his own personal playground. I used to take him to dog runs but most here in Vegas are dirt - and me being me I can't take a dirty dog. Gross. He gets plenty of exercise with me on my walks though. The summer is going to be brutal on us both. It's up & adam at 6.00a to walk or by 9.00a it'll be 110 degrees. I can handle the heat it but poor GB's little doggie paw pads can't. I refuse to put clothes or dog boots on him. I'm not THAT kind of dog owner.

GB taking a break in the arena

When he's in the office he usually sits on the corner of my desk facing the door. Sometimes he sprawls out in the doorway to see who might be coming around the corner. It's cute actually. I know when he wants to go home because he'll sit right in front of me between my chest and the keyboard. I just rest my head on his back and type around him.

Like most dogs they tend to reflect the personalities of their owners - so in the spirit of full disclosure he likes air conditioning, HBO & Seablue. Yes, my dog eats better than most people. Spare me your judgements about feeding dogs people food. I guarantee my dog is more healthy eating NY Strip bones from Seablue & sake (salmon) sushi from Sumo II than your dog who eats gluten free, organic kibble from some boutique dog store.

About 3 years ago I made the best decision of my life, to date. I adopted George Bennett. My friend at work, Yvette, emailed around pics of 2 baby Shih Tzu puppies that her mom just delivered. Of course they were cute, puppies always are. I toyed around with the idea of getting one. Everyone said it was a bad idea. "You can't have a dog with your lifestyle," they said. "You work 16 hours a day and then go out at night." Only one person said it was a good idea - Trubes. She was the only one who didn't hesitate. And she was right. Dead on.

Hey, get off my keyboard.

After about a week of hemming & hawing over the email of the puppies I went over to Yvette's to see them. There was a black & white one and a liver & white one. I knew right away if I was going to get one it would be the black & white guy. He was not interested in me whatsoever. He didn't want to leave the vent where the AC was coming out. My kind of dog; choose comfort over distraction. But I was smart. I didn't make the decision there. I left and went home to think about it for a week. I did excel spreadsheets on my budget, I make a pros & cons list, I researched the breed to make sure I could train him to go on a puppy pad for those days I had to be at work for 18 hours. In the end all of it was just an exercise in futility to make myself feel better about my decision that I already made 2 weeks ago. I knew the minute I saw his picture come across my email he was the dog for me.

GB at the park

My friend Trubes helped me name him. He went without a name for about 10 days after I brought him home. People suggested cutesy names like Oreo & Panda. Clearly they don't know me because I'm not a cutesy kind of girl. I love the name George and he looks like one to me so that seemed an easy choice. But I also wanted a name that had some sort of meaning to me too. Trubes suggested I name him Bennett after Tony Bennett, arguably my favorite standard singer. I couldn't name my dog Tony Bennett - now that would be weird - so I landed on George Bennett. It totally suits him and I can't imagine his name as anything else. 

Adopting George Bennett is by far the best thing I've ever done. Every day when I leave for work I tell him, "I Love you. I'm grateful for you. You make me very happy." I do. I am. He does.

I Could Write A Book

I reveived a message from a guy last night. "Hey, babe. Been a long time. Let's get together." Great. Problem is in a subsequent message he asked, "By the way, got any tics for the Pacquiao fight? Can't hurt to ask." I'm so tired of guys asking me for hookups. I Could Write A Book on all the stupid one liners from men asking me for things. It's exhausting and infuriating. Ok, so there are times when I use it as currency. I'm not stupid. I take care of the tour guy from Coldplay so that my life gets exponentially easier on show day. But when guys use flirting as a foray into getting free tickets it's insulting. Do you really think I'm that dumb? At least have the decency to be a better liar and pretend you actually like me for more than 3 minutes before asking me for tickets to Paul McCartney. The true test is when I tell them no. If they actually continue to feign interest they might have a shot at a future show. Hey, I'm not proud. I'll buy generic peanut butter just because it's on sale knowing full well it's not as good as Skippy Super Chunk. Sometimes all you need is the taste, not the real thing. 

I've gotten some pretty good thank you gifts over the years. Lots of gift certificates, half a dozen Tiffany boxes, flowers, fruit, massages. But the best gift, the one I have yet to receive, is a simple hand written card that reads, "I know you know I'm not really into you, that I'm just using you for your connections so in the interest of fair play here's $1,000 for services rendered." 

Yeah, go fuck yourself.

Kissing A Fool

Morning. They were laying in bed. The blinds were closed but the room lit up from the ambient light bouncing off the white walls. She still hadn't painted her place. It was immaculate but cold. Temporary.

She wrestled under the covers, shifted to get out of the cold draft of the air conditioning and find a warm place. He moved with her and whispered in her ear, "Get into your spot."

She turned over on her stomach, arm under the pillow, knee bent up. He moved to fit along side her like a square peg in a square hole. His arm under her pillow, lacing his fingers with hers. His head nestled beside the back of her neck.

"I hate that I'm in love with you," she murmured as she exhaled.

"What?" he breathed into her hair.

"I said I hate that I'm in love with you."

"Shhush. Go back to sleep," he said as if she simply craved pancakes.

She was Kissing A Fool. Or maybe he was.

Almost Blue

Somewhere over the past month I lost my focus. It's been a gradual progression but I could feel it happening almost in slow motion even though I was moving a mile a minute with the ACMs, the fight and my little jaunt to Meh-he-ko. It hit me tonight when I ordered pasta takeout. Pasta. I've never ordered pasta takeout. And to a diabetic pasta is like kryptonite. But it was more than the pasta. Last night I almost called Counselor. His old buddy who moved to LA is back in town and friended me on Facebook, said we should get together for a drink. It brought back a lot of memories of the three of us going out, like it was in the beginning. Got me thinking about Counselor again. I didn't call him but I was close. Closer than I've been in years. Part of me wants to do it just to get M out of my head. Like chewing gum so you don't smell like garlic you just ate; call Counselor so I don't taste the heartache over M. Ridiculous. I've been using that word a lot. It seems to sum up my emotional state lately. But it does feel good to actually feel something again. For so long I was shut down and cut off from feeling anything. 

So I'm giving myself one more day to sulk in this Almost Blue cloud before I kick it into gear again. Start my morning workouts on Monday. Get my focus back. Find joy. I've felt it, albeit momentary, so I know it exists inside. It's a simple formula. ADMO. I've done it a thousand times. How hard can 1,001 be?

Different Lifestyles

I'm back from my little Meh-he-ko jaunt. It was nice. Just what I needed to recharge my batteries for another couple of months. I gibed at my friends for being so chatty but some of the conversations gave me a little perspective. I went with some of my girls from college, all with distinct vantage points in their lives. Some married, some divorced, some kids, some not, some single, some in fucked up relationships, all of us grateful for where we are and confident we're 100x better now that we were in college.

One of the conversations I had was with my friend who is a ridiculously successful businesswoman. Probably the most successful woman I know personally - and by successful I mean she makes a shitload of money, because let's face it, that's how we measure success. She told me that she was a bit nervous to have one of her volunteer groups over to her house because she didn't want them to see how well she was doing - her home is sizable at 5,000+ square feet in an exclusive community. What struck me was that she was embarrassed about her self-made wealth. Men don't feel like that. Men are the opposite. They actively show off all they have - and even brag about things they don't have. I know some women do that too but in my experience it's much more prevalent among men. I felt a tremendous amount of anger when she told me this. Don't you dare feel bad about being successful. Be proud that you have what you do. You deserve it. You've EARNED it. In truth she doesn't dwell on it. It was more just a passing comment but it got me thinking, why do women feel bad about being successful and are even punished for it sometimes? We get overlooked by men when it comes relationships because we're too controlling, overbearing, threatening, make too much money, whatever. We get sneered at by other women who can't understand why we're not married or why we prefer to have a life before we create one. We get down on ourselves for buying into this notion that even though we're successful in business we're somehow less successful in life because we aren't Suzy Homemaker. It's ludicrous. Sometimes I wonder if I had met Mr. Right in college and got married like most of my sorority sisters would I have gone on to do all the things I've done? Would I still have the drive to take risks? Would  I have the desire to make things happen or maintain the restless need to do more? Or would I be content as perhaps a mom or wife? Would that be enough? In the end I'll never know. It's like when I ask myself what would my life be like had I been born looking like Lucy Liu or had I not been adopted. I'll never know what might have been between the Different Lifestyles but it's an interesting exercise in futility at 11.13p on a Friday night.

Friends

Last day in Meh-he-ko. It was a great 4 days but not the life-changing transformation I was hoping for. It never is. But last night my friend Terri did something kind of wonderful. She called us all together and told us a story. It went something like this:

Grace came home to see her mother in law lying lifeless on the couch. In a panic she called her friend Jillian. "I need you to help me move a body." 

You're a friend who would help
move a body.  XOCO, TH

"I'll be right there," Jillian said. In 15 minutes she appeared at Grace's door. 

What actually happened was Grace's mother in law had too much to drink and passed out. Grace's daughter was coming home from school soon and she didn't want her to see her Grandmother in that condition so she called her friend Jillian to help her move her mother in law to the bedroom to sleep it off. 

The moral of the story, we don't often have a friend we can call in a crisis who will "help move a body" no questions asked. 

The 6 of us went to Puerto Vallarta to celebrate Terri's 40th birthday but in truth we all went for our own reasons. Terri was just the catalyst. What she didn't know, what she couldn't know is that we all needed this break as much as she did. She thanked us for our friendship by giving us charms with the phrase "You're a friend who would help move a body." It's not often you find Friends like this, it's even rarer to sustain those friendships over more than 2 decades. I'm thankful to have these girls in my life.

Beyond The Sea

Meh-he-ko

Happiness is somewhere Beyond The Sea...

Isn't She Lovely

Tuesday. Day 2.5 in Meh-he-ko. Getting into a groove down here. I found out my CrackBerry actually gets reception down here so naturally I'm tweeting. I though MGM blocked all international service. I'm probably gonna get handed a bill next month for $2,000 in roaming data charges. 

I got a massage, facial & pedicure this morning. The woman who handled all 3 was Sylvia. She might have been 100lbs frozen wet in a down parka. She spoke English about as well as I spoke Spanish. Sylvia taught me my new favorite Spanish word: cosquillas - tickle. The massage was average, facial poor and pedicure abominable but my expectations were low and she was so sweet I didn't complain. That's the Minnesota-Nice in me coming out. I even tipped her 30%. Hell, the dollar is strong in Meh-he-ko and her warm smile was worth it. I kept thinking, "Isn't She Lovely."

But as I'm sitting there watching her paint my toenails Rosa Mexicana I wondered what things were on her mind? While I was daydreaming about what this trip might have been like had I come with M instead of the girls - what was she thinking about? What to make for dinner? I hate giving pedicures? In this economy I'm happy to have a job? Is American Idol on tonight? This girl's 4th toe is missing a joint? Or maybe she was as focused at her job as I get with mine - not thinking about anything but the task. Naa, I'm pretty sure she was daydreaming too.

It's Gonna Be Alright

Monday. First full day in Meh-he-ko with the girls. Headed to the beach. Now that I'm close to 40 I really don't care about being in a bathing suit. I've been working my ass off and look better than I have in years but I'm still not a sight to behold. But it's funny how we revert to our old selves quite quickly. All of the girls are slim, fit and cute. That's what you get when you join a coveted sorority in college. It's like being the ugly duckling or Cinderella only without the metamorphosis or being saved by Prince Charming. Back at the U I was the girl who always had to be set up by her big sis for formals because I didn't have a boyfriend. It's ok as a freshman because you really don't know anyone and lots of girls are in the same boat but as a junior or senior not being able to get your own date is a bit humiliating. Of course I made it work. That's what I do - solve problems. I just latched onto my gay friends. They were always up for a party. But as I got older I cared less about not being beautiful, thin and married to Biff (or Jon as the case turned out). I overcompensated by kicking ass in my professional life, taking risks, working on fun projects, traveling the world. I staved off most of the insecurities by drowning myself in my job. I'm not the first fat girl to do so, won't be the last. If I can be that much more successful in my job then it will make up for the fact I was unwanted, unsightly, unloveable. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. I can try to play accounting tricks with my life but in the end the pyramid always falls tumbles. 

Then I moved away from Minnesota. Or more accurately, I ran away from Minnesota and started over. I needed a clean slate where no one knew me, where I could reinvent myself or more accurately, find out who the hell I was. I traveled the country, the world. I met different people and found out not everyone likes a blond (or brunette or redhead) who is below her BMI index and wants kids instead of a career. I was so relieved to know that I wasn't the oddball - the culture I was in was. Now I'm not saying getting married out of college to your sweetheart and having kids is somehow less fulfilling or means you contribute less to your environment. But when that isn't an option it's nice to know there are others available.

Somewhere in my 30s I found myself. I started to make some money and garner real respect from my professional community... and myself. I had some relationships that ultimately failed but can see now that they were never meant to succeed. I have a library of experiences to draw from and it makes all the difference. But sometimes there are triggers that bring me right back to that insecure fat Asian sorority girl who never got asked to a formal. Being with the DG girls on a beach did it for me this time. They're all wonderful and couldn't give a fat rat's ass about what any of us looks like in a bathing suit but when I look up and see the flat stomachs of the girls, it's hard not to judge myself. And at 39, I can't use the I'm-a-successful-business-person mantra because most of these girls make about $200k more than I do. They are moms, leaders of industry and look hot in a bikini. I can't catch a break. So instead I tell myself my life is good (which it is) and that I'm doing great (which I am) and that we all have our insecurities (which we do) and that It's Gonna Be Alright (which it will be). 

Nessun Dorma

I've got to be up in 31 minutes so what's the point of sleep? I'm just gonna pull an all nighter. This is the eve when Nessun Dorma. Instead I'm tapping on my Air with the pads of my fingertips because I just painted my nails. 

I toyed with the idea of bringing my Mac on vaca. It's certainly small enough. But I'm going to try unplugging for a couple of days. I'm not completely sans communication though. I'm bringing my CrackBerry. 

I am going to try hard to forget about everything at work, harder to forget about what the hell I'm doing with my life and hardest to move on from M. I hate that I still like him so much. I guess it's like a pot of boiling water - just takes awhile to cool off. Maybe floating on a raft in the crystal blue ocean listening to Chris Botti might help. I'm gonna say probably...

The Very Thought of You

I like being up late. My best ideas come to me in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep. There's something so tranquil & enveloping about nighttime. 

04.09.01 Morales vs. Maidana @ MGM Grand Garden Arena - Las Vegas, NV

The arena before doors

7.30p. Katsidis is in the ring. It's round 4 of 12. It's the 1st time I've had a chance to actually come into the arena to catch a fight since doors @ 3.00p. Normally I've got plenty of time and hang around during the undercard fights but tonight I had to handle all the essential tasks for next week since I'll be out of town. I've been holed up in my office for the past 4 hours. Like a caged animal it's time for me to escape. 

MGM stagehands putting on
rope spacers

No major dramas today. Pretty smooth really. Anthem singers are always a cluster. The promoter of the event secures them and usually handles their credentials, access & guides them on where to go and what to do - but invariably I end up babysitting some part of it. Luckily today Raul with GBP handled it. The woman singing it is like 10' tall. It will be interesting to see how she does.

Tecate girls, for your enjoyment

The arena is on it's feet cheering for Guerrero the guy pummeling Katsidis. The Arena isn't very full. It's always a bad thing when you can see green chairs. That means there are no butts in them. 

There's also this weird thing that the boxing promoters have been doing in our building lately - they put up a stage for a band. Yes, that's right. A band. I'm not sure what that's all about and it's even more strange given they also have a DJ. I'm not a fan of the band but whatever. It fills up space & dead air. 

Mick Katsidis in the ring

7.36p there's a fight in the stands. Metro & security go running to section 13. That garners as much attention and cheers from the audience as the fight in the ring. Crowd brawls always do. 

Straight men who might be reading this: pay attention now. We have new ring card girls and brand-spanking-new outfits. The girls are ridiculously tall, thin and boob-a-licious... and sweet. There are usually 3 of them. They take turns during the rounds. I guess men get bored looking at the same hot bods for 50+ rounds and require some variety. If you only knew what a production it is to select them, get them approved, outfit them, do hair & makeup, get them ringside and in & out of the ropes, you'd be shocked. Yes, I realize many of you men (and prob some women) would love to have that job. But alas it's taken by a superb team here @ MGM. If you watch the PPV or HBO broadcasts you might catch a glimpse of Bo. He's the little dude in the tux who holds the rings for the girls. Great man. 

Like a well manicured lawn

7.45p It's round 8 of 12 and people are booing the ref for calling Katsidis on low blows and taking off a point. Boxing pundits have tagged this as the best fight of the night. 

One of the cool things about boxing is the 10 second warning. It's a very distinct sound that not all ringside referees use. The Nevada State Athletic Commission uses, quite simply, 2 wooden blocks - and knocks them together wide side. It's remarkably loud. I've been in boxing for almost 15 years & I've seen and heard other commissions use other methods. None are as effective as the blocks. There's a lesson in that. Sometimes simple is better.

Maidana walks to ring

8.00p The final round of Katsidis & Guerrero. God, Katsidis' face looks like hell. Unrecognizable. He is getting beat to a pulp. Both men are at war. Their bodies are tired but they don't stop. When one gets hit you can see the spray of sweat and blood fly like a sprinkler out into the air. It disgusting yet poetic. You might think it's cool to be a photographer on the apron but lemme tell you. It's gross. You get all kinds of bodily fluids on you. It happened to me once. Once.  That's all it took. I've never been back since.

Robert Guerrero wins by unanimous decision. It was never in question.

Ring clears and we're getting prepped for the main event.

Andres Reyna rehearsing
Mexican Anthem

It's 8.19p Anthems are being sung. HBO getting ready to do the main event ring walks. I'm in the locker room hallway trying to catch a Twitpic. It's not easy with my crappy CrackBerry.

Just finished capturing Maidana & Morales ring walks as they go from the dressing rooms and to the ring. It's all carefully timed and choreographed by HBO. Like a dance only with sweaty men who put vaseline on their faces and kick the shit out of each other. Once they round the corner by me they are stopped by security and Metro so that only 5 cornermen do the ring walk with the fighter. That's all we and the NSAC allow. They always try and push the envelope but we do a good job of stopping it. Having men with guns helps.

Hijo del Santo aka Freaky Mask Guy

There's this scary little man with a silver mask on. One of my tweeps told me he's "Hijo del Santo" a legendary Mexican wrestler. He's about 4' tall with a full mask on a la Pulp Fiction s&m. It's beyond creepy. I may not go to bed tonight for fear of nightmares. 

Morales getting ready to walk

Once again I'm sitting in a chair with DQ standing next to me while I type on my Air. He's watching the fight. I'm watching the audience. They're definitely into it. There are prob close to 6,000 people in here. It doesn't look to bad actually.

8.44p people are chanting Meh-he-co and stomping on the seats. Lots of moans & groans. Good stuff. The atmosphere is electric. This is what fight fans come to see and feel. This is what the MGM Grand Garden Arena is known for.

8.53p Crowd loves these two. They're putting on a great fight. They're little dudes too. It's always surprising to me that the fighters are so small. And when you see them up close you think, "I could take you." Morales has a big bump on his eye. That's gonna mean a trip to the hospital. (Note: it did. Morales went to the hospital after the fight. According to Golden Boy Promotions, he's ok.)

Oscar @ the post fight presser

One great thing about boxing - and I've probably mentioned it in my blogs & tweets - they end early. Unlike a concert where the main act doesn't hit the stage until 9.00p sometimes. And if the fight ends in a KO we close up shop even earlier. It's a fun atmosphere but I'm never sad when they end. I try not to take the benefits of my job for granted but like everyone, after a long day I just want to go home and chill.

Favorite part of the night - chair racks

I still have about an hour of stuff to wrap up before I leave for a week so I'm going back to my office and leaving the arena bowl. I'll hear who won on my walkie. (Maidana by majority decision 116-112, 116-112, 114-114.)

If you were here I hope you had a great time. If you weren't here, come to the MGM Grand Garden Arena sometime and experience a fight live. You won't regret it. And let me know if you do. I'll hook you up with some goodies.

Zopfi. Out.

It's Gonna Be A Lovely Day

AO & AZ @ SB

Last night I had dinner at Seablue with one of my favorite people on earth, AO. She's one of those souls that radiates positivity, but not in an I-wanna-smack-the-shit-out-of-you kind of way. I don't hang around people that dripping with happiness. Makes me vomit. More like an I'm-gonna-make-you-laugh-until-you-pee kind of way. Her laugh, infectious; her heart, ever expanding. AO owns a successful flower boutique in Duluth, MN called Angela's Bella Flora. (She sends me the best soaps EVER.) We reminisced about the college days back at DG. She reminded me of how they'd play pranks on me with my bed. Ok, so I'm a little fussy about things. I like them the way I like them. I'm not American Psycho about it but you should know that if you sit in the chair in my office it needs to go back, centered on the space between the 2 pictures and pushed back all the way against the wall. (Yeah, ok. Maybe a little psycho.) I've always been this way. Anyhow... back in college I had a featherbed. Everyday I made my bed, fluffed up the featherbed, down comforter & pillows nice and plump. When I came back from class there would be an imprint of a body in the middle of my bed. So me being me, I'd have to make the bed all over again. Drove me nuts. They thought it was funny to screw around with the fastidious one. 

Senior year at DG my room was right next to the Quad. Normally that room goes to the newbies but this year 4 seniors thought it would be fun to share 2 sets of bunk beds and bond. Quel nightmare. Yeah, opted for a single. But the walls weren't very thick and every morning I would hear the song It's Gonna Be A Lovely Day. AO would blast it at 8.00a. For most people 8.00a isn't necessarily early but for me it was. I was the girl who successfully graduated in 4 years from the University of Minnesota and only took 2 morning classes. I can't prove it but I think subconsciously I changed my major from mechanical engineering to film simply because all the math & physics classes were in the morning & the movie classes were always at night. 

Tonight I'm having drinks (yes at Seablue) with another college friend, Dave. I adore him too. He's got a funny way of saying my name. "a-ME" while bobbing his head. He's one of those super-sexy hot gay men with money to burn, a lifestyle all would envy & a heart of gold. I'm a lucky girl to still have friends like this who wanna hang with me while they're in Sin City. Lucky indeed.

7 Days To Change Your Life

Christ my personal posts have been depressing. Just read thru some of them for a quick edit. I'm leaving them up so I can go back a year from now and see how ridiculous all of this was... but man, come on Zopfi. It's not the end of the world. Lots of krill in sea. It only takes 7 Days To Change Your Life. I'm betting I can do it in 4 on a beach in Mexico with good friends. 

Broken Hearted Savior

On Sunday morning I'm headed to Mexico with 6 girls from college. The first of us turns 40 on that day so we're going to celebrate, commiserate & Champagn-erate or Margarit-erate or Tequil-erate. Whatever works. I can't wait to get out of Vegas for awhile, to get lost on a beach & forget about everything... or maybe to sort it all out. This past 2 weeks has been an emotional roller coaster for me and I'm exhausted. I forgot how grueling falling in love can be. I'm not sure what happened to me but I feel like I lost my mind. It's been a long time since I've let myself feel anything for someone since Counselor. I took a chance and it didn't work out. No major drama or big scene. Rather it just kind of fizzled out like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. I'm internally humiliated and outwardly compensating with disgusting bravado. It's is maddening to know there's something lacking in me and nothing I can do about it, and that It's Alright. Maddening. I like to solve problems but how do you solve the problem when the problem is me being me. Ouch. 

The past 14 days ended like they began, quite uneventfully. I'm a different person than I was 2 weeks ago, with subtle yet substantial scars but wiser for having gone thru the experience I guess. I can already feel myself shutting down, closing up like a wound. I guess it's time for me to be my own Broken Hearted Savior. 

What A Girl Wants

The ACM stage in pieces

So much to tell but for now What A Girl Wants is bed. Tomorrow it's all about the official arrivals of Morales & Maidana @ the MGM Grand. Five days of boxing then off to Mexico for a little r & r. Can't wait...

Back at it around 10.30a. The arena floor looks like one big erector set. My favorite part is watching the strike. It's amazing that everyone knows exactly where each piece goes, bit by bit. It's a masterful dance, truly with the production manager, stage manager, executive producer, lighting designer, riggers & stagehands all working like a symphony. I love it. 

The remnants 5 hours later

At the same time the ACMs are loading out, Golden Boy Promotions is moving in with Morales vs. Maidana. So far it's just a couple staffers in their production office. We ramp up to a full show by tomorrow. Arrivals for the fighters were today. I missed them. I was at a strategic lunch with the 2/3rds of the Brain Trust and by strategic lunch I mean we had to get the hell off property. We're all going a little stir crazy being trapped in here for 2 weeks. 

The rest of the day is uneventful. I'm not fan of boxing as a sport but the people are like family to me so it makes all the fire drills and drama ok. We just kind of yell at each other, get thru it and then kiss & make up after. It's a blast. 

Tomorrow are closed workouts for the press. Very uneventful. I could use an uneventful day, gladly.

It's Alright

Man my feet hurt. Granted I've been in 3' heels all week, but still.

All Star Jam pre-set

The ACMs wrapped up last night with their All Star Jam in the Marquee Ballroom. It rolled along until 1.00a with a barrage of stars like Toby Keith & others that I wouldn't recognize if they took a shit on my doorstep. Many people think it's better than the actual awards show. You get better access; it's a more intimate feel, like seeing a Chris Botti show @ the Blue Note vs. U2 at the O2. Both great shows, just different experiences.

It's Monday morning 9.30a. I'm sitting in my spot in the back corner of the arena floor listening to a little Big Head Todd & The Monsters, It's Alright. It's where I come to clear my head and jot down some notes about the show while they're still fresh in my head. Plus, everyone knows where my office is so there's no place to spend a quiet moment - instead I hide in plain sight. 

The night went well. Not too many surprises. Typical award show event day stuff. There are so many moving parts it's hard to get a handle on all of them. Over the years I've come close but there is always the occasional curve ball. That's what makes them fun.

The riggers and lighting designers are on the stage getting ready for the Girls' Night Out show tonight. I used to hate the second show - mostly because by now my body is so tired it's rebelling against me. But this year I feel great. Not sure if it's my physical body that's to credit or if things this week have been that tame. Either way I'm grateful.

Girls' Night Out Star Chairs

The arena is eerily quiet. Coming in this morning it didn't feel like we have a show today. Now in the arena around 10a things are starting to pick up. Stage hands are striking our green chairs for some fancy gold ones where the "Women of Country" will sit for Girls' Night Out. Couple of other tweaks to the set and floor for the show tonight but other than the content, nothing too much will change. That's the whole point behind doing this Monday show. It's almost a 2-fer-1. Cuts your production costs tremendously because you don't have to re-do a set. And this is the same set we'll be using for our upcoming Billboard Music Awards in May.

Rehearsals get rolling around noon and are in full swing until doors tonight. It's gonna be a long day in these 3' heels. 

Hard Habit To Break

MGM Grand Garden Arena
dressing room hallway

Today is going pretty well. Just your typical award show kind of drama. Credentials & wristbands are always a bit of a cluster. There are so many issued and every year when we think we have it down, there are always exceptions, changes, additions, subtractions. Some of it necessary, a great portion of it ridiculous, but all of it manageable.

Reba's dressing room

This year we had some oddities with who could and who couldn't eat in the Chipotle catered crew room. What should have taken 10 minutes to solve ended up taking 2 days. I blame the fact that the production manager who normally handles the full show went over to Mandalay to run the Sugarland & Rihanna portion. It was the right thing to do for the show but sucked for us, the house. He's just tremendously talented for handling things before they spiral out of control. By the time it got to me it was already a mess so I called him and he came over to fix it. You really never know how good someone is until he's gone. I think that's a lyric in the sappy Chicago love song Hard Habit To Break.

Is Blake Shelton in there?

I spent the majority of the day in my office working on Morales vs. Maidana stuff, the event we have immediately following the ACMs. I was also working on some high profile events that haven't been announced yet so I'll leave it a mystery. That's the cool thing about working for a major arena. There aren't many acts that we DON'T get simply because you don't pass up Vegas. There's too much money involved. About every hour I popped out to make the rounds, get some fresh air, a little exercise, stretch the legs. 

Door to rehearsals

Around 4ish I was up in catering checking out the catering fiasco and noticed a performance on the screen. I managed to catch Rihanna and Jennifer Nettles' rehearsal from Mandalay Bay. I'm not a fan of either but good God can those girls sing. 

8.30p Right now the team is getting ready for Taylor Swift's closed sound check. It means we have to sweep everyone out of the arena except non-essential crew. The good thing is I know all the hidden places in the arena where no one can see me so just because someone is telling me I can't, I'm probably going to watch it. It's childish, I know. But I'm pretty tired and need to entertain myself somehow.