Ghouls and Ghoulettes: the Halloween festivities have ONLY just begun, and already I am dividing up the nightly shenanigans so as to not overwhelm you on Sunday morning. Yes, it was that... creepy. In a funny sort of way. Why, you ask? The majority of my staff were schoolgirls and nerds, so I assumed the rather apropos role of the Naughty Headmistress. Look closely at the photos posted earlier and youll see a riding crop. Yep. I lost count of the people I spanked throughout the night, most of whom were NOT employees behaving badly (HR police!). Indeed, I became somewhat of a photo opp and spanking commodity amongst patrons and passersby. No, Im not complaining. I was oddly empowered, Mr. Grey (haha!). I really need another reason to reprise that costume at some point. Then, whilst at our oft-entertaining post-work snack at Relish, Jenny Marie and I encountered a trio of amusing scenarios that only the wee hours can inspire. Noshing on some wings, we noticed a young (and handsome) man listening to our stories from the night. Curious, he began talking to us and Jen commented on how he resembled (maybe in the eyes) James Franco. He exclaimed that hes nothing like him! but then proceeded to tell us that he consumed three tootsie-roll and bacon infused pot candies. Hmmmm... methinks thou doth protest too much, young but yummy buck! Wait. Did he say BACON? Damn. On the other side of us sat a man who was a living caricature of Rod Stewart. Apparently, hes also a notorious pickle salesman (he dances when he delivers the pickles. No, really.). How Rod Steward and one of my favorite crudités became somehow intertwined, Ill never know... but stranger things have happened (or have they?) As fate and dill would have it, Steve the Pickleman recently broke up with his paramour - she gave him two weeks notice - so he offered me the opportunity to apply for his successor Pickle Mistress. He followed said proposition with the following proclamation: I may not look like a Cadillac, but I RIDE like a Mercedes! I ask you: how does one turn that down????? (My friend, Sharon Thomasson, aka Pickle, can help me answer this.) Alas, I had to break his heart when he told me he has plenty of kosher dills but NO cornichons (mini-gherkins, to the Brits). Sorry, pal, but I love a good tiny French sweet pickle. MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER. ALL OF YOU. Last but not least, there was a girl at Relish who sneezed like one of the Seven Dwarves. By the time we left, I think wed convinced her to assemble a demo reel for Warner Brothers. I shall sign off until tomorrow, my friends, when Lord knows what comedic atrocities await me. I tremble with mild fear and eager anticipation.
Posted on: Sat, 26 Oct 2013 08:59:53 +0000
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