Well I'll take whatever I want
and Baby I want cheww
You give me something I need
now tell me I got something for you
Come on - come on - come on - and do it
come on and do what you do...

Be o-so glad that you're not my co-dweller or upstairs neighbor at this moment as, with tequila + hangover on this fine sunny Saturday AM, I'm blasting BadCo getting, as we say in the music biz, pumped for tonight's big show.
Glee has never been more experienced. The concert t's better be interesting. And the show, too. And I'm hoping that Foreigner is on last as I only want to shoot them and scram. But, for the record, I'm there, so there, for BadCo. Dig?

Fortunately last night I bumped, nearly literally, into the most boyish boy colleague who handily reminded me that I had a group show art opening in a few hours. Ran to opening (after running home for descuzzing and equipment changes) for fun and frivolity (and dinner = cheese, crackers, beer).
It was unmarred good times until a brat, dragged into a photo op by artist pal Matt, decided it'd be really groovy to have her back to me/camera, to make faces, to be just a general pain in the ass.
I had to say this: COOPERATE or get the hell out of the picture - a first.
Onwards then to other events, including a benefit with a M*A*S*H theme which happened under a mildewy tent so intense I had to curtail that stop.
Then to the disco step-by-step hoopla and that scene of well-matched dancers and a section for freestylists. Marty Angelo bought me a shot of tequila and I believe he told JP/bartender to supersize it. Through the strobing of lights I saw a second cousin on the dancefloor doing her thing, and, I'm proud to say, she didn't disgrace the family.

Onwards to AOL assignments, freelance matters, and then.