I was tired

Look at me with the 1am blog posts. Little Miss Jillian has been busy this week. Christ I am exhausted, but the fun just doesn't stop. I'm expecting next week to be back to its normal, slower pace and you'll get to read more enthralling posts about work and me entering contacts into my cell phone and such. I know, I can't wait either.

I had another shift at the Writers Festival on Friday night. I was scheduled to work the Hospitality Suite. I was looking forward to this one because it's the place where all the writers hang out when they aren't reading. Since the reading that night was for the science fiction genre, I wasn't really feeling like I was going to be missing out on much by not being at the Mainstage.

I dressed up. I put on one of my favourite outfits--skinny jeans, shirt dress and my grey Rocket Dog heels. Really good hair. Being a hospitality suite hostess is like being an ambassador to the city and I was taking that responsibility very seriously. That, and, you never know who you're going to meet and hope to be memorable for.

Imagine then, my slight disappointment then when I arrived to find the room empty, save for my fellow host--a middle-aged, flamboyantly gay man, and an 11-year-old boy who was playing the "why" game. Why indeed.

The kid eventually was picked up by his mother, one of the festival workers, which left me alone with my hosting partner. Neither one of us were really striking up a conversation.

"Do you mind if we turn off the TV? I just find the noise so bothersome," Host asked.

Turn it off? Dear God it was the only thing that was going to keep me awake for the next three hours. What else were we going to do, read a book? Oh, right, Writers Festival. When in Rome...But instead I switched the channel to the cable weather station so at least I could listen to the soft-rock music. Ahh, Journey.

Okay, so the hospitality suite wasn't turning out to be the shmooze fest I was hoping for and the company I had wasn't looking like he was going to be a new best friend. But I knew I could sit there in my cute outfit and pout the hours away while thumbing through every piece of literature in the room, or, I could make the best of it.

So I started a conversation. And it got interesting. And then Host got interesting and I kind of started to like him. We talked about work, blogging, my haunted TV, writing. He had many stories and thoughts on things. All I had to do was ask him a question and he went from odd to interesting and amiable. Simple. I think I should try talking to people who I don't think I like more often. Yes, and then I will become that annoying woman on airplanes.

I slept a good, deep sleep that night. I was tired. I had another shift to work, my last one, on Saturday afternoon. After that I went to my mom's and dad's, had dinner, watched the end of the Edmonton/Saskatchewan football game (I'm cheering for SK these days) and then picked myself up off the couch and headed to my next social event: Nigel's 32nd birthday party.

I was tired. I did not dress up and I was only planning on staying for one drink. But then I got talking with a friend of Nigel's and his wife, and then a friend of Nigel's friend joined us and he happened to be a drummer of a local rock band that was mildy successful a few years ago but has since broken up. He's now got a new gig.

"John Mellencamp or Jessica Simpson?" I asked when I heard the first few bars of what would either be "Jack and Diane" or "I think I'm in Love".

"Mellencamp," the drummer answered. Well of course that's what it was going to be. I knew that. They would not be playing Jessica Simpson in a place where they serve beer and nachos. But that was my smooth way of demonstrating to the drummer I was more than just a cute blonde in a blue hoodie. And it worked, because suddenly, when he talked, he started looking more at me.

I had just said something about how I was going to the Keith Urban concert by myself on Sunday because I had bought a single ticket while in my Strong, Independent and Trying New Things phase sometime in June. While Drummer was in the washroom, his friend turned to me and said, "Tony's single."

What exactly do you say to that? I knew what it meant. Tony's friend seemed to think I was a nice girl, and obviously he thought Tony was a nice guy, and hey, shouldn't two nice people who are single get together sometime and talk on a more one-on-one basis? But I couldn't very well respond to this guy, who I had only met an hour before, with, "oh, that's great! Please set us up!" So instead I said, "aw, well, I only have the one ticket to Keith Urban." Yeah, I know. Total fail. Tony ended up leaving before I did. He gave me a wave and a, "nice meeting you." Ah well. Maybe I'll go check out his new band some time.

I'm supposed to be doing breakfast at my aunt's house tomorrow morning, er, later this morning. I've got some good stuff coming up but I'm saving that epic story for later in the week. Epic, yes. I'm thinking it's going to have to be a three-parter. Life has been a whirlwind these days. Weee.