Or so I thought until I had nothing to do since Sunday. I was supposed to work at the bar tonight but mysteriously I'm not on the schedule. I guess because drama went down at the other bar they own a few towns over, they lost their liquor license because of noise or some shit? Anyway, those bitches apparently got president over me. Pifft. I made a big dramatic stink to the manager and he laughed and so did I and then I left.
Oh well. I was stoked about working because I have had nothing to do. I'm tempted to stop by there later, but it's always a mob fest filled with douchebags down on that street on thursdays because of this huge Saranac Thursdays where the brewery opens up every week with cheep prices on Saranac beers and a band. Brings out all the young crowd. Rude. Obnoxious. Don't tip. Et cetera.
Fridays are way better. Older crowd. I love me the older crowds.
I guess I'll spend tonight like I've spent the last three nights. Editing and cleaning. I think I've lost some brain cells. If I could scan, at least I could see some new stuff. But I'm forced to go back and edit all my older work, which I need to do anyway.
But still. I'm going stir crazy.
Above is the first of many of Sam. A fully wardrobe-styled shoot with five different looks by none other than Holly Ross. Makes me feel all special.
Next: Makeup artist
Next: Hair stylist
Let me fluff my feathers as I gloat about having my own wardrobe stylist at my fingertips. Not to mention she's fucking awesome as a general rule.
Whatever. Back to... editing...
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