The happy and the !@#$

The new job is all the anticipated craziness and nerves I expected; weird terminology and brief panic attacks stemming from not yet knowing what in the world is going on around me… and then I’m soothed by the fact that it will all be perfectly fine in time and I will not regret it. All transitions are long and arduous, this one being no exception. The people are nice. My supervisor seems to royally kick ass. My trainer is cool and knowledgeable, although there are times when she is so swamped in her own work that I’m left to animate my Office Assistant for entertainment. There’s a girl in a nearby department that I worked with at the grocery store. I’m always amused when I see what a small world it can be here in overpopulated Southern California.

All of this strange, stomach ache inducing unfamiliarity is ironed out every time I look around. The building I work in is by far the most interesting blend of architecture and design. The company is an upscale office furniture one, ergonomic to boot, and the whole place is a working showroom. I sit in a chair that retails over $1,100 and my ass has never felt so good. There is a growing green initiative taking place here and I’m loving it. Everything is recycled/able and they encourage people not to waste paper by doing everything possible electronically and printing on both sides. There’s some optional environmental impact conferences next month that I’ll probably attend.

This job takes my old job and goes, “Bitch, eat your heart out,” and then flips her hair and saunters off, hips swinging like wrecking balls.

Last weekend, while Kiddo was with dad, Ree and I were perfectly content to spend a slightly hungover, sweaty Saturday watching movies from the couch and ordering in. The night before had been my last day at the old job, and we (along with a dozen ex-co-workers) celebrated accordingly. Saturday we woke early, drove to Ree’s old apartment and slung trash bags over the railing from her second story abode until we were pouring sweat. That place is almost clean… if we can just avoid melting into puddly, gooey humans in the effort.

So we get a call from a good friend of ours, Jen. There’s some unwanted VIP tickets to this exclusive club in the IE, heavy on the builder industry clientele, some rock bands playing, not her or anyone else’s scene, do we want them? While we contemplated the unlikely fun of the Inland Empire and running into old contacts from the industry we’d both just left, the two most glorious words ever breathed by a human being were uttered: Open. Bar.

We dressed accordingly and found this place within an hour and a half, located in an small industrial complex. A golf cart blasting Nirvana drove up to my car and told us to hop on. We were dropped off behind a plain looking building, with a small banner, siting: Voodoo Lounge. I could already picture the originally invited executives from my old job making elaborate U-turns to head home. I don’t think any of them would have given the place a shot. At first glance, as we entered through a chain link fence and were searched by metal detectors, surrounded by plastic picnic furniture, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give it a chance. I couldn’t figure out why we’d been required to dress up for what seemed like a backyard BBQ. The patio area was mostly a place where smokers congregated and merch girls sold band T-shirts. A door in the corner led into the mystery building. We didn’t know if we were to anticipate a restaurant, a bar, a venue, a fucking torture chamber… But one of the main reasons I love Ree so much is that she has brought out in me the ability to make the most of any situation with her natural ability to have fun, to BE fun. She said, "You know we'll probably end up having the time of our lives."

We went into the building and walked through a dark hall and into the absolute coolest place I have ever been in. Every square inch of wall and ceiling was covered in vines and leaves, huge tiki ornaments buried within the foliage, TREES, people, right in the middle of the floor. Overstuffed recliners, couches and benches upholstered in animal prints. Strange punk rock bartenders with little to no experience backing bars – but an abundance of cleavage and heavy hands, poured drinks. We got our first round and I made myself comfortable on a zebra print recliner just off the dance floor, directly in front of the stage. We marveled at the joint with slack jaws, pleased as punch to have driven so far, if only to say we’d officially seen the most aesthetically pleasing club/venue that ever was. (And in the middle of no where!) The bathrooms had the coolest damn paintings in them, which I took pictures of on my cell, but... read on.

The first band that played was a southern hard rock band with a list of classic covers under their enormous belt buckles. Collectively, they had more hair than my body could produce in a lifetime. Straight Confederate flag sportin’, twang talkin’, batter dipped & deep fried southern rock. With a side of ranch. They were awesome. The more we drank, the more we appreciated covers like Sweet Home Alabama and Simple Man. As time passed, I became completely blissed out of my friggin’ gourd. I got to sit in a comfortable recliner, sipping strong! free! rum & diet concoctions, watching very, very decent live rock n’ roll, with my best friend? I’ll probably go to hell for that blatant, indulgent, display of debauchery. It was like I cashed in all my good time elements and here you go, we’ve produced you the perfect evening.

It was the best night out in a long, long time. Way, way too drunk to drive home, nevermind the check point in between us and the freeway, we bunked in a Motel 6, where somehow Ree’s cup of water/ashtray spilled on my phone and left it depleted of any battery power, permanently. That, along with my missing debit card and way too heavy of a period has made this week not only stressful, but bad bad bad.

But I still can’t bring myself to complain – except for in the confines of my own perfect apartment with only my roomie, Kiddo, and a chihuahua to hear my strings of expletives and death wishes.

One week from today, I board a plane to SF. HOE. LEE. SHIT.

It's unlikely that I can update as often as I did before, but don't give up on me. I'll be producing mediocre accounts of my shenanigans for a long time.

PS. I watched Crazy/Beautiful last night after RESFUSING to ever see it. That movie successfully fucked me up and quickly became one of my favorites. That fucking Billy Corgan lookalike won this round...

Comments

[Ree Bee Dee]

Riverside FUCKING Rocks!!!! I want more VooDoo in my life.. We HAVE to get back into that place.

<3 You Ninja!