Networking Would Be Easier With Actual Net

Okay, I know that I'm supposed to talk about Afghanistan, football, water on the moon, Thanksgiving, twitter and tweeters, and I promise I'll get there. But first I want to talk about a party I went to last night.

My favorite sound studio, Sound Post, threw a little Happy Hour. That made me laugh because it was a Happy Hour scheduled from 5:30-7:30. In the land of commercial work, Happy Hours last double long. I decided to go. And I brought cookies and little cheesecake bars because that's the kind of girl I am. A domestic dork. I should've arrived in an apron too. I do owe Sound Post for all the work they've done for me/given me and I've calculated that it amounts to a year's worth of food, my soul, and a child. I'm working on all three.

At any rate, I'm an incredibly awkward person. I guess I'm gifted that way. So when I walked in and saw all these professional people, a little part of me died. It occurred to me that networking would be easier with an actual net, and I had visions of me as Spiderman (Not Spiderwoman mind you. My boobs would be distracting in a suit that tight.) I has visions of me as Spiderman shooting webs from my wrists actually forcing people to talk to me and take my business card.

I also wanted to channel a little old fashioned Mr. T. Arrive with my white girl mowhawk, say "Whatchou talking about Willis?" and take people down. Oh, wait. That's Channeling Diffrn't Strokes. See? Awkward.

Mr. T, or, the appearance of my attitude.

But the night went okay. Dave from Pop Scholars joined me. He's cute and comforting and very tall. (He did a white boy rap in the booth which is too funny for words.) Oh! I got to bat my eyes at Stuart, always fun, and see Jerri's adorable dog, admire Sean's buzzcut, talk to a few casting people and advertising peeps, and actually have a really fun conversation with a gentlman who ran in fear as soon as he heard that in my books people have sex. A lot of sex. (Which isn't true at all. In "Blunder Woman" Chloe doesn't get laid AT ALL.)

The night ended on a high note when I climbed into the recording booth and did my naughty phone prompts. In a sexy-ish voice: "Thank you for holding. Are you still holding? You must be lonely. I'm lonely too. My name is Tanya. What are you wearing? Mmmmm." Oh. Yes. And I created a new word. "Thank you for holding. We can't answer the phone because we're getting schmastered." I meant to say either 'smashed' or 'plastered' but I somehow said them at the same time.

That was my evening. I liked it. Next time I'll wear an apron though. Just an apron. And maybe heels. That should get some attention.