*glimpse*

So last night, I decided that after all the hard work that I've done for the day, that I deserved a drink. (As if I needed an excuse psshhhh)

Anyway, I'm sitting with a coworker and we begin to talk about the characters that we work with - and trust me, there are quite a few. The diversity of the kind of people I work with is a testament to this city in general. Proof positive that people move here for sh*ts and g*ggles (just as I did) and to soul search all the time. (Or, we're just a bunch of glorified f*ck ups - LOL) <--- Can you say Epic Fail?

The people that I work with or have worked with in the Nightlife Industry include a motocross pro, a former MLB player, a Golf Pro, a certified Pornstar, a ski pro, a couple of actors, a screen writer, a NYSE broker, etc. The list goes on and on and on. So I guess after that conversation, I didn't feel too bad about myself - LOL. I been saying it, we need a reality show.

**Etc for the day**

B-real from Cypress Hill is off the shizzy live and I enjoyed his set. I am uberly (yes, another "ism" of mine) proud of myself for having two glasses of champagne in four hours and a total of two cigarettes (I'm determined to quit and am well on my way). My crazy a*s coworker got toasted off his as* last night. Anyway, this dumb friend/coworker of mine (and I am allowed to call him dumb cause what he did WAS dumb) is so drunk that he can't even stand up. He runs into another male patron outside of the nightclub and proceeds to swear at the innocent bystander (who happens to be quite a large athletic male - LAM, who was easily twice his size). Drunken friend (DF) tries to to punch LAM, but is so drunk that LAM just side stepped him. LAM tries to leave it alone but dumb DF goes for him yet again, swings, misses and LAM socks him straight in the jaw. All of this happened not 15 feet from two Metro police officers, who were thankfully around a corner and not in their line of sight. Afraid that DF would get the beating of his life or arrested outside of our place of employment, I stand between the two, push my coworker off in the other direction (where he drunkenly kind of just kept going with the momentum) and I start to throw myself (and I am a horrible flirt) at Mr. LAM to distract him. I don't know how, but it somehow worked.

I get a text this morning from my drunken fool of a friend,

"I hate you right now, you let some f*cker sucker punch me last night."

My response:

"Hey dumba*s, it was your fault and you probably deserved it. At least you didn't get arrested. Take it like a f*cking man."

The reply?

"And that's why I love you b*tch."

True Story.

P.S. - I'm really not a b*tch. Around these parts, b*tch is a term of endearment. LOL.