The one where I curse a whole lot

What will follow will most likely be the most jumbled stream of conciousness ever, riddled with misspellings, typos and grammar errors and an overwhelming sense of 'what the fuck are you on?' If this scares you, please feel free to hit that little X and walk away now.
For everyone else, let's continue, shall we?

Holy fucking space balls.
Had to get that out.
Life has been a roller coaster lately. Work. Life. Friends. Career. Family. All of it. If I could bottle it up and place it on a shelf, I think it would look like glitter and smell faintly of crap.
Things I thought would be easy have not been.
Things that I never in my life could have imagined have fallen into my lap.

Have you ever seen someone and thought, "Wow, that person is an asshole."? And then wondered to yourself when that change occurred? I mean, surely they weren't a sullen little asshole three-year old. Right? I mean I've seen some three-year old brats, but I don't think they're doing it on purpose.

Last night I had the amazing opportunity to be involved in a local dinner. (not going to name it or the people involved, lest Google bring people looking for pertinent info to this random ass diatrab.)
Amazing. Amazing. Amazing. There were celeb chefs. Hell, even the local chefs I got to work with are some kick ass dudes. I was working among some culinary legends. And I managed to hold my own. Hell, some how I think I managed to convince these guys that I was on their level. I think I said the phrase "You are too kind" about a million times last night. Because, honestly, they were.

And, they were just plain awesome. Cool cats if you will.

And, on the flip side, I'm at this event, working as a featured chef and running into people I knew from 'my other life.' The ad life. A different world. A world I was kicked out of. Sometimes, I feel like Happy Gilmore (follow me here, Brad makes me watch a lot of stupid movies). Happy wants to be a hockey player. Is CONVINCED that he's an awesome hockey player, and yet, he has a raw, natural talent for golf. He pushes it off and tries to continue to embrace hockey.
So while I have managed to become this 'rising star' of the local culinary world (did I really just say that? See? Asshole) I still look toward the advertising. The writing. The wanting to be a writer. (Please don't use this garbled crap as an indication of my skills. Or maybe do.)

I used to FLIP THE FUCK OUT over any media attention. Party pic on a web page. OMG. Did I get a blurb about me getting a new job? Get the fuck out. I'm putting that in a scrap book.
And now? (asshole) I've been getting more and more attention. I don't even know it's happening. Review on a website? Cool. Oh, a full page photo in a local mag? Sweet. And yet I'll flip right past it and show someone the ad copy I wrote two years ago, "They're still using it!" I croon.

What the hell is wrong with me? Get over yourself Happy, do not put the damn hockey guy on your golf trophy.

So there's that.

And then, there's the part where it's one bajillion degrees outside and nobody wants to buy cupcakes. So I sit in a very quiet bakery banging my head against a wall.  Everyone I have talked to just says it's this time of year. Other restaurants are slow (nobody wants to leave the AC). Other bakeries are slow (Either they just got married or it's not the window to book just yet. And really, who wants to wear a giant gown in 110 degree weather?) Even other businesses in general are just slow. It's this time of year. Vacations, camps, life. It doesn't make this feel any easier. But on the flip side, the other bakery that opened around the same time I did, with a VERY SIMILAR NAME (ahem, not bitter). Well, after about 7 months, they closed. CLOSED. GONE.
Sorry, the cap lock stuck. (or didn't, whatever).
On the one hand, I feel bad for them. I couldn't imagine what I would do if I had to close. Granted they are claiming that their lease is up and had to leave. Could be true, but who would let anyone sign a 7 month lease? I was given the choice of a three year minimum. Also, I know they put in a grease trap; that was easily 10K. Who would invest that much up front and only be there for 7 months?
On the other hand (the hand that's an asshole) I think to myself, "Self, if 50% of restaurants go under in the first year, that means the other 50% make it." And by that logic, if they're the failing ones, I must be the successful one, no? Probably some kind of post hoc argument (or whatever you call the one based on an illogical fallacy, I can't remember). But THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING WITH.

I am tired. I worked the bakery all day yesterday and got desserts ready for the dinner, closed went straight to the dinner and worked there, we finished around 11:30 and went out for drinks until 3:30 this morning and then I got back up at 6:30 to get to work.
When I am tired, two things happen. One, I think all strangers look familiar. I mean every single face in the crowd, I'm like, 'I know that guy.' And usually, I don't. And second, I curse. A Lot. Like my brain can't be forced to come up with words longer than four letters. So there's that.

And with great sadness, I shall hit publish on this randomness, which seems to be the only thing I can manage to write any more.

Written Wednesday, August 1, published once I had slept.