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Went to an awesome event last night in Atlantic City. The old Pier Shops, which were the new Ocean 1, is being transformed yet again. But this time into a Mecca of shopping and cocktails and comedy. Please book me.

So I am hoping to get a lucrative media correspondent job from the flip videos my girlfriend took between Woodford Reserve and sodas. Is that too far reaching? Anyway please check out the video footage of me talking with my mouth full.

Youtube Video no longer available

Well folks I am one step closer to creating my media empire as I attend the event at the newly-conceived Playground (formerly the Pier Shops at Caesars). I'll be covering it for Experience Indulgence. Which is a new website associated with the Marc Berman show.

I have been noticing that when the universe wants to make sure I get something it gives it to me twice. So back to my women's group that I have mentioned before. Well one of the lessons is to "be in your pleasure." Boom! Then I get a gig with www.experienceindulgence.com! 

Okay universe. I get it. There is sand in my shoe as we speak.

I love my new place. With all the amenities here in the building I don't know which to try first. There's a gym, steam room, sauna, lounge, even belly dance lessons! I have never lived in a building before. Wow. I'm a house girl. I'm used to the amenities being lawnmower, trash day, trip to Home Depot and cable is out again.

All I have to do is get rid of all my crap and I can fit in my little box. It's even furnished. Only in AC. So I get to wake up every morning and feel like I am on the Golden Girls set. I keep expecting to Blanche to walk in my room and ask for the rent.

Just watched Whiplash. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. Or why I do so love the exquisite pain of it all. Like a hangnail hurting but kind of feeling good at the same time. I continue to watch every mentor/buddy flick to come down the pike. I put myself in the protagonist's position. Then as the credits roll I am reminded, more harshly with each passing year, that my mentor just isn't coming. 

I would love Professor Keating from Dead Poets Society. But hell, I would settle for Bill Murray in Meatballseven. At this point anybody older in my field that wasn't wanting to borrow money from me would do. 

One thing that is becoming apparent is that there are not a lot of women in the mentor business. I can't even think of one. What do you say Rosie? Let's make a movie. Or at least do lunch.