"I am going to be a millionaire." This sentence has been my sisters mantra for as long as I can remember and despite my many attempts to deny having any faith in her, deep down I kinda always knew one day it would be true. My sister prides herself on her single-minded determination to succeed in life and lets face it, the girl could of hit the million dollar mark in personal escort services some time ago (she's definitely not horrible looking, lemme tell ya), but not just having money will do, she wants to earn her keep doing what she loves. The first apartment Rachel and I lived in after leaving our parents house was, in our minds, the hottest shit since Paris Hilton's chihuahua (she was still relevant back then, I swear!). Unfortunately the glamour started to wear off (as well as parts of the linoleum in the kitchen...) and we started to see our cozy new home for the shithole it really was. Rock bottom came one day when the hot water heater, conveniently located in the middle of one of the bedroom closets, started to emit a gas-like smell in the three foot radius around it. Two teenage girls don't really have time to stand around wondering what "that smell" is, we just spritz our JLo body spray and move on with our lives. But the night the smell moved to more of a seven foot radius and me, being the drama queen I am, decided to projectile vomit all over the bathroom as a result of it, was a low. So my sister decided to take action. She immediately called the landlord despite the time of night and even in my delirium I knew that his number was dialed more then once, twice, three times a lady. Early the next morning I awoke to a strange man hauling the water heater out and my sister packing her bags, "We're moving the fuck out.". A week later we were moving into the exclusive Frank Estates townhouses, how she managed to get us out of our lease, into a new one and everything packed and ready to go in just one week is still to this day completely beyond me, but I do know I will never forget the realization that this bitch was going the places she wanted to go... and fast.
So here we go again, just a mere three weeks ago sweet sister o' mine decided she wanted to start a business and thats exactly what she has done. Within the first week she had rented the space, booked the entertainment and artists and finally, right before the weekend, thought up the name. RYPE.events now has it's own website (www.rypeevents.com), it's own Facebook page (LIKE us!) and lots of advertisement including flyers (and yes, shocking, she designed those as well. See her pedaling the pavement to pass them out in a neighborhood near you! And see above for our upcoming event details!). So in honor of RYPE.events we've decided to start a blog on all things we love and believe RYPE stands for, music, art, literature, fashion, philosophy, photography... furniture! You name it! A big cheers to my one and only, Rachel Taylor and all her hard work and dedication! "Won't it be cool when I'm a millionaire and can actually pay you for shit like this??" Oh girl, you have no idea. See you all in November!