there's no question that PR gigs are loaded with perks and parties but the more i do the more i realize that shit is just compensation for all the other shit i got to put up with. right now i'm weighing the perk of receiving the first season of the world poker tour DVDs gratis against the constant people wrangling associated with my latest project. i'm doing this thing for silent bob so its my responsibility to make sure that everybody is satisfied, from the people that i'm contracting with to the studio people to silent bob's publicist and her people.
and now a bona fide shot caller has entered the picture so i've got to get harvey's and harvey's people's and harvey's people's people's involved in the mix. how many people is it? that's a lotta fuckin people. ever hear the expression, "too many cooks in the kitchen gonna spoil the stew?" as legit as the phrase rings, it don't mean shit when you've got mad people demanding satisfaction.
all of this cat herding often leaves me wanting independence. i'm not trying to be lumumba verballing stripping leopold II down to his skivvies in kinshasa here (pardon my dennis miller moment) but is it so unreasonable to imagine that allowing me to handle things without breaking out a new roll of red tape would favorably enhance productivity? alas, my rant isn't going to change anything but it certainly highlights the allure of playing poker and the satisfaction from being on your own side, not having to rely on other people to carry water that you really don't need.
of course, my vitriol would be far more potent if i were actually winning at poker. in the past week i've won less than a buck fifty, far behind my regular average of between four and five hunny per week. thankfully, i was playing well enough earlier to make the final payment for my summer term at school but the current trend will not permit me to have the fiscal leeway to get my ass to the big island come august. at $900 per credit, the cost of school makes playing poker a necessity so spare me the lectures on the dangers of being a degenerate gambler. shifty asked how many credit's i'll need to receive my mba. i replied, "about fifty grand."
what all this vainglorious pontification boils down to is why the fuck am i doing what i'm doing. and the truth is, i don't think i know. a paycheck? sure. deluding myself into believing that i worked with one of the brothers weinstein? hardly, since i'll more likely be in contact with said brother's people's people. what about exposing my bank account to numerous bad beats as my pocket rockets fall to some frat boy who thinks he's clever for chasing me down when his 85 offsuit makes the gut shot straight on the river? fuck that, nobody likes to hear about somebody else's bad beat.
ya know what? i'm just grouchy because its almost 2:30 and i haven't had lunch.
and now a bona fide shot caller has entered the picture so i've got to get harvey's and harvey's people's and harvey's people's people's involved in the mix. how many people is it? that's a lotta fuckin people. ever hear the expression, "too many cooks in the kitchen gonna spoil the stew?" as legit as the phrase rings, it don't mean shit when you've got mad people demanding satisfaction.
all of this cat herding often leaves me wanting independence. i'm not trying to be lumumba verballing stripping leopold II down to his skivvies in kinshasa here (pardon my dennis miller moment) but is it so unreasonable to imagine that allowing me to handle things without breaking out a new roll of red tape would favorably enhance productivity? alas, my rant isn't going to change anything but it certainly highlights the allure of playing poker and the satisfaction from being on your own side, not having to rely on other people to carry water that you really don't need.
of course, my vitriol would be far more potent if i were actually winning at poker. in the past week i've won less than a buck fifty, far behind my regular average of between four and five hunny per week. thankfully, i was playing well enough earlier to make the final payment for my summer term at school but the current trend will not permit me to have the fiscal leeway to get my ass to the big island come august. at $900 per credit, the cost of school makes playing poker a necessity so spare me the lectures on the dangers of being a degenerate gambler. shifty asked how many credit's i'll need to receive my mba. i replied, "about fifty grand."
what all this vainglorious pontification boils down to is why the fuck am i doing what i'm doing. and the truth is, i don't think i know. a paycheck? sure. deluding myself into believing that i worked with one of the brothers weinstein? hardly, since i'll more likely be in contact with said brother's people's people. what about exposing my bank account to numerous bad beats as my pocket rockets fall to some frat boy who thinks he's clever for chasing me down when his 85 offsuit makes the gut shot straight on the river? fuck that, nobody likes to hear about somebody else's bad beat.
ya know what? i'm just grouchy because its almost 2:30 and i haven't had lunch.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
i love silent bob.
p.p.s.
i don't remember leaving that post at 4:05 am.
2 ambiens.... mmmm.... good.
edited to remove the word "totally" from before the word "don't"
.....stupid LA speak sneaking into my speech...
[Edited on Jun 19, 2004 7:14PM]
she and i go waaay back.