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I cater, therefore I am

I had an event last night that got me home at 2.00 am. I'm awake, taking nourishment, and have assumed a vertical position. That said, my ass is dragging...

I have private clients that I have to head out to in a while as they have invited 40 of their bested friends over for the usual musical Sunday soiree. Don't get me wrong, I love these people. Showing up for a gig at their house, which happens to be on the top of a knoll high above the Los Angeles, is a treat for me. I know their friends, they all want to hear about my life and hang out with me in the kitchen (I've been known to be mildly charming and somewhat amusing at times), and I get paid good money. Who's complaining? Did I say I was complaining? No, I'm just looking forward to tonight when I can resume my favorite position on the couch in front of the telly with a glass of something red and wine like in my hand.

My gig last night was for one of those very cool gay Hollywood couples who have one of those fabulous Hollywood houses where even the guest towels perfectly match the trim. They had 40 of their bestest friends over to celebrate one of their 40th birthdays. It was an evening of candlelight by the pool, happening music and me with blisters on my toes. Wearing $400 Marc Jacob shoes to cater a party that goes 8 hours? Not so smart. I ended the night in flip flops. Sexy...

I'm off to have a massive cup of tea and to try and make myself look amazing, sparkly and fresh all over again. Here's hoping.

Sexy%20cook.jpg


Oh, and those $400 Marc Jacobs shoes? I got 'em on sale for $130. What, you think I'd pay retail?

Comments (1)

Marcia:

hey, having spent most of my life in this city, I now get to live vacariously through your adventures - love it.

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