Bidness

I actually do have a job. Had you forgotten about it? Don't feel bad; sometimes I forget about it, too. It has been all too present in my attention lately, unfortunately. Looming dead ahead is our annual celebration of bidnesses, a mad, gay whirl of galas and conferences and panel discussions and every other kind of dissipation short of a bal masque. I'll have to remember that for next year.

My contribution to the madness is twofold, planning (which I've been grinding away at since last June) and attending the events, being Little Miss Charm, spilling small talk like a vending machine. I am usually excellent at that, I can make intelligent contributions to the conversation without even attending to it and I can extract myself with great aplomb from just about any dead end chitchat, but this year, what with R Man's cancer and chemo as well as my disappointment over the Brazilian Porn Star Invitational not inviting me to be a judge AGAIN, I am just not up for it.

This could be a real problem since our first party, a networking mixer in San Jose on Monday, could have really benefitted from some attention from me in regards to drumming up some press for it and maybe even some attendees. Luckily, I spoke with the main sponsor today and she pointed out that "Everything below Palo Alto is really just Burbank anyway." Not terribly flattering to either San Jose or Burbank, but it does take quite a bit of the pressure off.

Houseboy Pandimonious Digitalis has very sweetly offered to help out, but since no one can find his pants, I don't think it will work. Oh well, it's Show Time.