LA Vork Scene
I'm on the 33rd floor in LA...but keep in mind it is a much shorter building. I'm on the same floor as the kitchen; Maman was giving me shit yesterday about having a belly. It's like, bitch look at you! You are straight up fat! But I didn't say that. She's got a point, I've been Bingoinin')
Nina shmeena, there's a new secretary in my life now: Yvonne. She pampers me.
Yvonne: Was your lunch good?
Beneficent Allah: Excellent, thank you for ordering.
Yvonne: No problem, let me know if you need anything else.
Not much happens in LA. I think I got a black beemer. LA bar scene still sucks. I spend my weekends playing with Persian Jay-Z's babies. (They call Janis - their nanny - "Mommy," which is cute/disturbing.)
There's a room across the hall from my office called coffee/copy. It has the coffee machine and the copy machine; it reminds me of those godawful fascist mosaics in Brooklyn subway stations. Coffee/copy is where they keep the water too. Obviously, I spend a lot of time in there. I was in there after the gym last night - str8 hydratin - when I noticed the brand name of the robinet was "Sukay". Sukay made me smile, and I started muttering to myself, "ooh, Sukay Sukay, Sukay Sukayyy," when a (female) partner walked by. Fope!