2003-02-03

I have spent the past 4 days getting my drunk on. It seemed important at the time, but I suddenly find myself paying for it at the moment.

A quick run down. Just to keep this thing linear. Thursday had the brunch meeting with the CEO. There were muffins and a rather limp vegetable platter. I believe that the dip was spackle. We were all encouraged to talk about whatever we wanted, and that what we said would be kept between us blah blah blah. There was some talk, but mostly everyone wanted to get out of there and to lunch, despite the appetizing �spread� provided. Friday involved a rather hectic work day that ended with drinks that ended with me taking a cab home. It�s not much fun to get drunk with coworkers, however I understand that Bimberly allowed people to feel her fake breasts. The things one misses out on. This morning she was talking about how she might have embarrassed herself but didn�t really recall much. Yeah, whatever. Maybe that excuse worked in College, but no one really believed it even then. Sunday I awoke early, thanks to the firecracker bricks going off all over the city. Unable to get back to sleep, I walked down to the Starbucks, had my morning cup of courage and spent the rest of the afternoon running errands. I actually feel terrible about the whole Colombia disaster, but I didn�t even know about it until three, and it was just a glance at the Yahoo Homepage. I was going out with friends and all of us pretty much had the same fleeting glance. It wasn�t until Sunday that the full weight of the tragedy was evident to me. Unlike the Challenger incident, seen live during a 5th grade broadcast and hastily turned off by the teacher, this was very different. I have no emotional attachment to it. I haven�t even seen videos. I�ve been ignoring the stories and such. Maybe because it�s happened before, or maybe because of Sept 11, my capacity for tragedy is reduced. Saturday night involved dancing, more drinking, and general lewdness that comes from thinking one is clever when really it�s the Vodka talking. I had a rather strange experience with a large possibly mentally challenged woman, I was wall flowering at the moment trying vainly to get into the music. The DJ was terrible. I think he was playing random mix CD�s from who knows where. Former Balkan republics or something. Bad. Just plain bad. And every song had a couple of breaks in them. It was distracting, thus the necessity of drinking to excess. So, I�m standing there, against the wall when I notice a hulking presence next to me. It�s a large girl. Wearing an ugly white pirate looking shirt over a black sheath dress that doesn�t do any favors to her figure and rather ratty looking feather boa that looked like it was possible the feathers had recently come from the bird. A fresh boa is not something one should go for. I smiled and sipped my drink, bobbing to the music. She continued to stare, not necessarily AT me, but in my direction. My friends were no help, and I don�t know who she came with. I was thinking that perhaps it was one of those hidden camera shows, where suddenly the mask would come off and I�d be face to face with Tara Reid and everyone would laugh except the faint mustache seemed pretty damn real. �Hi� I finally said, during one of the stupid breaks. Nothing. There was no body language to read off this woman, and her blank stare and ratty boa where disconcerting to say the least. Suddenly she sprang to life. By this I mean there was a shift in her demeanor. I swear, you could almost hear rusted gears turning in protest as her brain revved up to consciousness. I braced, my flight or fight mechanisms activated but she lumbered off. Perhaps her alien leaders hadn�t briefed her well enough for a club environment. Or she could have been on something. Don�t do drugs kids. They are bad. So, that kind of dampened the evening. Although I did end up having a good time. Sunday was spent going to the Chinese New Year festivals downtown and then over to a bar for a beer bust and BBQ that went from 4 to 7. A drunken viewing of the Simpson�s precluded me passing out before Alias. And thus ended the weekend.

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