Beautiful Girl

Tuesday. TWR. Tuesdays With Rodney. We headed to Fiamma like we normally do. When we walked in Sumo was sitting at a table with Trubes and a blond. The bar was packed with other execs where we normally sit. Not a good sign. In my head I'm thinking, "No way I'm staying here more than an hour." I just wasn't in the mood for all this today. I just wanted to sit and have a quiet drink with the gang. We ended up with about 7 people @ our table. Eventually people funneled out and it was just me, Sumo & Big Rod. 

The guys were talking about hot women (as they do) and it reminded me of a conversation I had with a colleague. She told me one of the girls that worked out @ Wet Republic told her how much she made last season. It was well over $250,000. For 8 months. I was absolutely floored. I had no idea they made that much. I guess it explains why the girl was crying when she didn't get the job this season. I'd be bawling my head off too. (Although my second thought was what the hell did you do with the $250k you made last year?) I mean no disrespect to the girls who work out there as cocktail servers or models or waitresses or bartenders or whatever the hell they call them. I know they work their perfectly shaped asses & tits off and probably are put in some fairly compromising positions, figuratively speaking, of course.

But I started thinking, if I were born with physical beauty, I wonder, would I still be me? Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're all beautiful in some way and everyone loves puppy dogs & fairy dust. I'm not being self-deprecating. I'm being realistic and asking a real question. Would I have worked as hard as I did in school? Would I still shop @ Talbots & dress conservatively? Would I have the same body image issues? Would I still love men in suits & ties? Would I be kind or entitled? Would I be single? Maybe married with a couple of kids by now? Would I be a porn star? A stripper? An executive on Wall Street? Would I still work or be a stay at home mom? Would be more or less successful than I am now? Would I be divorced? Would I still like jazz? Would I have gone to the University of Minnesota or even bothered with college? Would I have a boob job? Would I ever have left the Twin Cities? Would I have the confidence I do now or more or less? Would I have slept with them men I have? Would I have fallen in love with the man I did?

Of course there's no way of knowing the answers to any of this. And in the end it really doesn't matter. My path was the one I took and at 40 I'm pretty happy with where I am. It just makes me wonder. It's no secret that the Beautiful Girl has the advantage. No, it's not fair. The rest of us just have to work harder to get what we want.

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.

Both Sides Now

It's hard to see things from another person's perspective sometimes. I don't understand why people can't let go & move on. I really don't.

When I was at the University of Minnesota my senior year at Delta Gamma we all named our rooms. There was Mango Jam named after Mel & KK's favorite college band, Cook's Room which was in the basement, the uncreative Presidential Suite, the Quad & the Triple. Oh, and the Pit, which literally was a pit. I named mine ADMO after a sort of mantra I came up with in college. Accept it, Deal with it and Move On. ADMO. I still try to live my life that way. I get hung up on the "deal with it" part sometimes but mostly I have no problems letting go and moving on. In fact sometimes I let go and move on a little too easily. Don't get me wrong. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business but I don't think holding a grudge and moving on are mutually exclusive. I think you can do both.

I'm so full of disgust over being force-fed a particular situation in front of me that it's affecting everything around me, everything about me. It's so ridiculous and out of my control that I've worked myself into madness. It consumes me. Ire is seething out of my pores like scotch after a night of binge drinking. I've become the person I loathe. I'VE become the one who can't let go and move on. It's funny how life has a way of flipping things around on you. I see Both Sides Now. I get it. I understand the lesson. Time for me to let it roll off my shoulders like some of the idiotic complaints I get after a concert, have a good laugh and ADMO.