Saturday, December 1, 2007

Something About Fridays

There is something about every Friday that fucks with me. If I knew why, I probably wouldn't be writing this blog. Yesterday however, took f'ed up Fridays to a whole new level.

I went to see Louis XIV perform at the Rio Thursday night and while driving home there was an eerie fog over the city. The top of Mandalay Bay was actually invisible, hidden by clouds. It was beautiful in a creepy way. When when I woke up Friday morning I went to the window wondering if there might be snow on the trees...I LIVE IN LAS VEGAS. What was I thinking?? I have greater odds of being dealt a royal flush on a video poker machine than I do of finding snow on trees here in November. However, it was raining like hell which is also something quite rare.
So I went off to work in the rain and haze and I don't usually work on Fridays but it's mortgage week and I needed to make up for having Thanksgiving weekend off. In the break room was a plate full of these tiny lime-looking fruits. They were certainly citrus but I had no clue what they were. I snacked on these little things all day and eventually learned that I had been eating kumquats. Go ahead and laugh and say that wasn't the first time I had a kumquat---ha ha, right, whatever. Someone needs to re-name that fruit.

After work, I drove to the Tropicana Hotel where they were auditioning for the TV show Don't Forget The Lyrics. From the day it started I said, "That show is for me! I have to get on that show!" I get so annoyed when I see cover bands around town and the singer gets the words wrong. The Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin has to be the most botched song of all time by lame cover bands. I pride myself on knowing the words to everything. It drives me crazy if I can't figure out the words to a song and have Googled more song lyrics than anything else over the years. So I bravely walked into that audition and filled out ridiculous amounts of questionnaires. After waiting 30 minutes for my interview, I became very tired and bored. I didn't even have nervous energy. So by the time my interview came up I appeared much like a depressed lump and I could not snap out of it. I needed a coffee fairy! Despite my suddenly melancholy mood, I belted out a Butch Walker song and "Stone In Love" by Journey. The interviewer said I was a pretty good singer and I definitely have no problem with lyrics but they're looking for a bouncy, animated person with a lot of energy. (Nobody told me that.) So the insane amount of music knowledge I have, plus the fact that I can sing well, and that I'm not so bad looking was still not enough to get me a spot on the show because I don't have a bubbly personality. You know what??
So I went home and watched the only band I liked (Tres Bien) on Next Great American Band get voted off and then watched this bubbly little contestant bitch on Don't Forget The Lyrics NOT know the words to "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. I almost threw a candy dish at the TV.

On my way to work at Beauty Bar later that night I could see that Mandalay Bay was still lost in clouds. The MGM was making one whole section of sky glow bright green. I got to work late, which I've never done before. The bar was slow and I was hoping to leave early but then a nice (although extremely drunk) woman with Billy Idol hair sat in my chair. As we talked I found out that she was from Hollywood and lived in the same townhouse building as 4 of my friends. She called over her whole group and they reveled in amazement the rest of the night at how I knew so many of the same people that they knew. By this time I decided I must surely be in the Twilight Zone.

When I finally got to bed that night I was so thankful that this bizarre day was over...but wasn't! I woke up 2 hours later to a text message and decided since I was awake I'd get up and pee. I guess I wasn't awake enough to realize my leg was asleep. I took one step out of bed, my leg buckled and I fell flat on the floor, cell phone still in hand. I hit my iron night stand with my thigh and I guess I didn't really feel it much since my leg was numb. While on the floor I read the text message from my friend Adam that made no sense, something about being nice to meet me...wrong number I guess?? I dragged myself to the bathroom, managed to get my leg working again and got back in bed.

When I woke up Saturday morning to that bright gorgeous Las Vegas sunshine, the only thing left to remind me of the most fucked up day I've ever had is this blue bruise on my thigh.