I know I was hungover and perhaps slightly more glib, or less edited, than normal and I put on the whole razzle dazzle 'em show all day. Whether I was as amusing as I thought I was or whether my delerious narcissism got the best of me I am unsure. Needless to say, I won't break my "don't get hammered on worknights" rule for quite a while.

Anyways, he was cute in that sort of Elvis Costello turned Hollywood elite frat boy in deck shoes and board shorts kind of way. I'm boy crazy in general from time to time anyways, but yeah, this one was just fucking adorable.
And perhaps there is some sort of pretty woman coum cosmetologist thing going on. Is he gay? Is he straight? Will he hate his haircut and never come back? These things run through my head more often than I'd like to admit.

He told me to write a blog and it seemed like an idea worth entertaining, so here I am.

I see a lot of different people every day, and I get a lot of different views on what is going on in this world. A director, then a writer, a housewife, a CEO, a recovering alcoholic, a celebrity who keeps running to the restroom every 15 minutes to "blow her nose." Everyone is anonymous and secrets that fall on my ears are only repeated to a few select best friends with an ear for stoned or drunken ramblings. Details or no, it leaves one, at least this one, with a rather strange picture of the world.

He was right. I've always had my own unique (or odd) perspective, and this career only helps further confuse and sometimes evolve.
So despite my hatred of blogs and those who love them, here I am being narcissistic enough to think the things that fall out of my mouth matter.
All I can say is I did it for a boy. It's not my fault.