Changes.

It was time for Miss USA again. My experiences with the organization are always very positive, fun, and busy, so I look forward to this time of year. Of course, the incredible number of staggeringly beautiful women does nothing but to enhance the experience.

Another year with the organization.

Another year with the organization.

But this year, among all of my usual hosting and announcing, is where I properly met Kelly Osbourne.

Kelly and I.

Kelly and I.

Lovely gal. Super funny. Amazing accent. My colleagues and I got on a discussion with her about weight, where I quipped that the only thing I’ve ever known is being thin, to which Kelly turned to me and said: “Shut up. You’ve never been fat a day in your life, you asshole.” Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more charmed by someone calling me an “asshole” before.

With Kelly and my colleagues.

With Kelly and my colleagues.

But it was a good rehearsal, and I enjoy doing the pre-show hosting for the event.

Andy Cohen and me.

Andy Cohen and me.

But while I enjoyed the experience, I had my mind on other things. I decided that it was time to quit the Museum. I really did care for the Museum and a great majority of my co-workers and the volunteers that I had once coordinated. But I simply could not abide being disrespected by management increasingly month after month. As much as I wanted to stay (and Las Vegas needs all the help it can get when it comes to the art and culture scene), I walked into HR, left a long and detailed resignation letter covering my dissatisfaction and the hope that the Museum would use its resources to benefit the community, and walked out for the last time. After all, I thought, I did have another job lined up. And so I celebrated with Mexican food with my former colleagues by drinking margaritas of of a tiny man’s hat.

Ole!

Ole!

But work was work, and I did another licensing convention, where I dressed as a giant bear with a staggeringly heavy torso, as well as Mr. Bean from the British comedy.

I'm in there... somewhere.

I’m in there… somewhere.

Mr. Bean!

Mr. Bean!

The group that organizes these events are always really nice, so I never mind that at all. I was, however, happier when I was more Bean and less bear. I must have lost what little body weight I have that week.

And again, I worked the NHL Awards, this time under a different production group, but still familiar to previous years. I even got to touch the Stanley Cup as they unpacked it:

The Stanley Cup.

The Stanley Cup.

It was there that my back, still tender from the previous year’s injury, coupled with a very physically stressful month, decided to give out like it never had before.

I was down.

I also realized that the job that I had left the Museum for simply wasn’t working out in my best interests, and with my injury flaring up, I couldn’t justify coming in any more.

Besides, I had the whole “standing upright” matter to attend to….