Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The Place Where I Work: Don't Believe The Hype

Always. Always, when you hype something up- like me and the office holiday party- you wind up being severely disappointed…but sufficiently drunk which wasn’t a total loss. The party was LAME. It was hot, the food sucked-there was this green skeet-like cold soup that just as I was about to put in my mouth, B made a reference to it being splooge and I gagged. Gagged and laughed.
Speaking of B, she has resumed her WONDERFUL blog: Post-its From The Underground. You can get her take on life and working where we work. Pretty entertaining. B had to take an unfortunate hiatus because some dude loved her witty, wickedly entertaining n’ smart writing style soooo much…he sent her dick pics.
Yep. He sent her pics of his dick. Via email.
Usually she feels all is fair in love n’ war, but mostly she was skeeved out. Who knew being a smart and hilarious woman could get you dick?? Who knew???!!!

So, yeah. The party was lame. First off, there was NO MUSIC. Secondly, peeps here are boring. Thirdly, Drake didn’t mention till this afternoon that peeps were hanging at the W Hotel.
Yes, you read that correctly. Drake and I had a conversation. A full length conversation. I called him out and he fell in love. Just as I suspected. Actually he thinks one of his cronies- the one I’ll call The Bangout- and I are soul mates! Ha. Mostly cuz we’re both moody. Drake is real insightful. He feels he’s been nothing but nice to me, and I told him didn’t speak to because I am NOT Latina. He chuckled, but stopped when I called him Drake and said I would call him NOTHING else.
Getting back The Bangout- who is being called that because he just looks like he breaks backs. You don’t- okay I don’t wanna know about this dudes life, how his day was, why he hates pickles- just I can tell just by looking at him…and speaking with him, that I would stalk him for the wang. Stalk.
For instance, at the party I see him walking around. He looked so handsome, and my loins led me to him and I proceeded to creepily follow him around till he turned to look at me like the creep I was being. It was pretty fantastic. I think I apologized and grabbed some more wine (shouldn’t have), and made my way back to my desk.

Perhaps the party wasn’t all that lame because it brought Drake and I closer-well not closer, we’re just speaking. Now, I don’t think he’s office boo material anymore. The thrill is gone. So sad-yet predictable. Am making my official work boo The Bangout, and I think my reasoning is sufficiently superficial.

Something that I think I can hype and NEVER be disappointed will be Friday night dranks with B, Blair, Bollocks, CloseUp (though B and I may take turns shanking her) and possibly a few surprise guests. Should be a BLIZZAST.

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