It was a very eventful weekend. So much that I don't feel like doing a recap.
Friday night, Three-O Jingle Bomb party thrown by Blackout Productions. This party was marred by many personal events for me. I had invited so many people to accompany me and they, for some strange reason, didn't want to go. I suppose it just wasn't their thing. With all that negative energy I was a little hesitant to go. But I had been looking forward to it ever since I got the "Save The Date" email back in late November. I started planning out my outfit and everything. So off I went. And it turned out pretty good. Martinis (flavored and all) at our disposal, well-dressed men and women, a mixed crowd, culinary samplings and very good music. What's not to love? The last straw to an evening that was hit or miss at this point, was my painfully new stillettos that gave way to some extreme pain 30 minutes into the evening. I just couldn't keep standing at that point. So I staggered home, from the pain of the shoes of course and nothing else. I suppose when they said "cocktail" dress they meant it would be a "cocktail" party, meaning no chairs at all.
Saturday afternoon. Bumped into "attorney guy"/colossal/purposeful asshole at some restaurant. Thought for a brief second that I would snub him and act like he was dead to me. Then, I remembered how old I was and walked up to him to say hi. We had a nice chat, very cordial, no hard feelings conversation. I hate those. Who the fuck am I kidding, I hate that motherfucker? Then, he walked over and introduced himself to my mum. Should. Not. Have. Then, she asked me who the fuck he was, and then I lost my appetite as I recounted all the pain and heartache he put me through. On one hand, I was glad he was there alone so I didn't have to meet Ms. Floozy as my dream had implied. But on the other hand, I could have done without seeing him and me yelling out to him, "Call me." I am so fucking weak, it's ridiculous.
Sunday Night. Went for another event at The Wine Loft. The Red Tie Event. Very fancy event filled with well-dressed men. I have never seen so many well-dressed men in Atlanta in one spot. Because they were well-dressed, they were cocky as hell, a conceited bunch that would much rather stand around than mingle with the women. It felt just like a high school dance with the guys on one side and the women on the other. I actually confronted a couple of them on it and their reasons varied from fear of rejection (or lack of cajones, as I termed it), to an admiration of the view, to mere indifference. It's a mingle event, so mingle with someone else besides your homeboys. Pfftt....
Rather eventful.
Friday night, Three-O Jingle Bomb party thrown by Blackout Productions. This party was marred by many personal events for me. I had invited so many people to accompany me and they, for some strange reason, didn't want to go. I suppose it just wasn't their thing. With all that negative energy I was a little hesitant to go. But I had been looking forward to it ever since I got the "Save The Date" email back in late November. I started planning out my outfit and everything. So off I went. And it turned out pretty good. Martinis (flavored and all) at our disposal, well-dressed men and women, a mixed crowd, culinary samplings and very good music. What's not to love? The last straw to an evening that was hit or miss at this point, was my painfully new stillettos that gave way to some extreme pain 30 minutes into the evening. I just couldn't keep standing at that point. So I staggered home, from the pain of the shoes of course and nothing else. I suppose when they said "cocktail" dress they meant it would be a "cocktail" party, meaning no chairs at all.
Saturday afternoon. Bumped into "attorney guy"/colossal/purposeful asshole at some restaurant. Thought for a brief second that I would snub him and act like he was dead to me. Then, I remembered how old I was and walked up to him to say hi. We had a nice chat, very cordial, no hard feelings conversation. I hate those. Who the fuck am I kidding, I hate that motherfucker? Then, he walked over and introduced himself to my mum. Should. Not. Have. Then, she asked me who the fuck he was, and then I lost my appetite as I recounted all the pain and heartache he put me through. On one hand, I was glad he was there alone so I didn't have to meet Ms. Floozy as my dream had implied. But on the other hand, I could have done without seeing him and me yelling out to him, "Call me." I am so fucking weak, it's ridiculous.
Sunday Night. Went for another event at The Wine Loft. The Red Tie Event. Very fancy event filled with well-dressed men. I have never seen so many well-dressed men in Atlanta in one spot. Because they were well-dressed, they were cocky as hell, a conceited bunch that would much rather stand around than mingle with the women. It felt just like a high school dance with the guys on one side and the women on the other. I actually confronted a couple of them on it and their reasons varied from fear of rejection (or lack of cajones, as I termed it), to an admiration of the view, to mere indifference. It's a mingle event, so mingle with someone else besides your homeboys. Pfftt....
Rather eventful.
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