Wednesday, March 10, 2010


So I went to a shmooze-fest tonight, otherwise known as a networking mixer. Luckily my friend was there to introduce me to some of her friends. If I had gone sans wingwoman, I probably would have wanted to shoot myself in the head. Picture a dark, overcrowded, obnoxiously trendy bar in Beverly Hills with the bad music cranked up so loud you can barely carry on a conversation. Why do people think this is fun? I only go so I can potentially meet people to help me with my career or god willing people that don't totally suck to hang out with. Too bad I'm not as outgoing as I once was. And too bad I'm too poor to afford social lubricant juice (ie vodka tonics or classy red wine). I'm going to another mixer tomorrow night, one specific to the film industry. Hopefully it will be more productive than trying to shout small talk at people I barely know who are totally in my personal bubble space and pretend that I can hear their most likely insipid responses.

Wow, this sounded super bitter and anti-social. I apologize. I like people. I just would rather be able to converse with them instead of stare awkwardly at my fingernails after we run out of things to shout about in the first five minutes. Oh well, we'll see what tomorrow's shmoozing at the Reg. Bev. Wil. (Pretty Woman reference!!) will bring.

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