7 a.m. I am here, sitting in my office, first one to arrive (now I know the truth about the girls who leave at 4, they say it�s because they get here at 7, but the clock is ticking away, and I locked the doors behind me), I did not go out last night because of this, I was up before the sun because of this, a project I should have stayed to finish yesterday, but keeping my appointment with Ronaldo was just much more important to me. I told my boss-lady yester eve, while she had clients in her office, as I was running out to get my ever-important hair done, to leave me a list of what still needs to be done on the project, for the hearing this morning, and I would come in at 7 a.m. and do it.

The punishment fits the crime. I am here at the butt-fucking-crack of dawn, and the project is gone. I bet she finished it last night, and that KILLS me. Me and my goddamn work ethics. I hate unfinished business, if it�s mine. But she rocks, if that headache of a project is done without me having to nitpick the ends of it with her. Whew! So here I am, quiet, typing away, waiting to hear a key turn in the locks, the clucking of the morning hens at the coffee machine. Perhaps I should make the coffee�. Hold on a sec, I�m gonna go do that�

Alright, coffee is brewing, I can smell the Starbucks grinds we get in bulk permeating the vestibule, and I don�t know why that wasn�t the FIRST thing I did when I got here. Ah yes, I was looking for a package, covered with instructions. Sigh. Okay, it�s Friday, and I still have a LOT to say, so let�s get to it so I can get a jump on the rest of my To-Do�s, okay?

Last night, I saw my favorite artist, man who�s canvas is MY head. Ron did me darker and clipped away some extra fur. It�s winter, I like to go Snow-Whitish, as my skin gets lighter, my lips a little redder, see, the hair has to match. I wanted black-purple, but the ever-conservative and knowing artist, perfected a darker, plumbier, look without the shock of black. I can dig it.

After hair and hanging art (for tonight�s spectacular Martino show, a friend of ours, and VERY talented individual), I went to dinner with a fabulous man, Thai food and snotty elitist talk, my favorite combination. We ARE better, babe, in case you�re reading this. Hee hee hee. Then, headed over to where the birthday girl was dining, with Fizgig and Nina, and plenty of odd-looking platters of lots of weird-looking food that I�d most likely spend the duration of dinner dissecting (Thai was a wise choice).

We shared dessert, so rich and full of chocolate crows, and then I headed home, to get plenty of sleep for THIS. And I note, it is now 7:30 (I�ve been coming back and forth to this, and now have fresh coffee in front of me � no such thing as too much sugar) and NO ONE is here yet. Liars. I am SO gonna tell.

But I digress. This weekend is packed like a porn-star's orifices. Tonight, gallery opening and cocktail party, again for the birthday girl. Tomorrow, writing class at UCLA during the day, and then, oh my, I do believe I�ve pulled a Marcia Brady. I overbooked with LA people, so I could be assured fun will be had by all. Some from the Stanton Residence are heading up, I do so hope to meet up with them, see the new boys� place in Venice, perhaps stop by John & Sue�s, and most definitely kidnap Lizard and make it out by Bluetech�s in Pasadena. Whew! As long as this ends with Roscoe�s Chicken and Waffles, I�m sure everything will work out just fine. Now, I�m going to go sit in our lobby, coffee cup in hand, expectant look on my face, and catch some of deez bitches strolling in VERY late.

Have a great weekend!

-Barbarella

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