Archive for December, 2008

Two parts happy. One part insane.

The Happy::
I am almost afraid to admit it aloud [ablog?], lest my typing out the words will jinx it, but the last few months have been awesome. [am I using lest right?]
I have been receiving numerous compliments from my colleagues about what a splendid job I am doing [which admittedly is causing me to be lazy –  I learned at a young age not to set the bar to high].  I have been spending increasingly more time with my friends, who I didn’t even realize I was missing until now.   My dog is slowly starting to love me as much as she does my father.  I am feeling healthy, which feeling is confirmed by a recent physical in which my doctor declared my blood test to be “perfect.”   I’ve got back to back four day weekends coming up!
So of course, not one to rest of my happy laurels too long, I have decided to infuse some crazy into my life…
The Crazy::
You may recall a few blog posts back, when I shared with you an email from a certain poker room suitor (herein dubbed “23“).
Well, since such email, 23 and I have been carrying on a raging text message/phone/email affair.
Mind you, 23 is 23 and I am sooo not 23. 23 lives in Michigan [still a student, no less] and I in Los Angeles.  The chance of anything ever happening with 23 [including my ever seeing him again] is completely implausible…maybe even impossible.  Yet, I talk to him on the phone for two hours at a time.  And I fucking hate talking on the phone.  We send HUNDREDS of stupid emails and texts a day.  I am growing addicted.
What am I doing?
Being crazy.  That’s what.
And one other thing::
I kind of maybe definitely made out with Shaggy Hair Guy last weekend.  Somewhere between one too many vodka sodas [story of my life] and sucking REALLY badly at Rock Band, I may have attacked his face with my tongue.  Although I don’t think he minded too much cause he called me last night.  I feel pretty whatever about him [though I would admittedly be insulted had he not asked me out], but dating a real life human being beats falling into fake love with a series of text messages, emails and random photos.  Right?  RIGHT?  [I don’t even know]
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Coolest thing the Internets ever gave me.

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This blogger needs a spoon.

So you know that little known and seldom quoted poem about that dude who is walking down a path and then he, like, comes to a fork in the road or whatever?
I was at such a fork this past Saturday.  On one side we had Shaggy Haired Boy, who has declared his love for me via his friends, who tell me how much of a crush he has on me.  On the other, new guy who was funny and visiting from London and – unlike Shaggy Hair Boy who mearly looked on from a distance – actually talking to me. 
I went with London.
Thinking back, I made the wrong choice. 
Damn. 

Surviving the Firm Holiday Party

It is once again that time of year where I don my cutest party dresses for some yuletide themed eggnog laden Jesus sanctioned debauchery.
The first major event of the Season:: My Firm’s holiday bash.
This year’s holiday party was a bigger deal than usual, as my boss had decided to stage a fuck-the-recession style blow-out at a super swank newly minted Beverly Hills hotel.  Not only were 70 of my dear co-workers in attendance, but so too were 230 of our most important clients.
A situation such as this, in which music, alcohol, people I like [or strongly dislike] and my nervous energy are combined, generally ends up in sheer disaster for me.  But after a lesson hard learned [see Bitches Talk Shit], I decided to do my damnedest to maintain some semblance of decorum this year.  And while this made the party considerably less climactic, I did succeed [mostly].
Highlights and lessons below.
1:: Two unrelated people told me that I looked like Bridget Bardot, which is completely not true, but still the nicest compliment I think I have ever received.  It is now my mission to avoid seeing any documentation of this event, as surely any photographic or video evidence will only drive home how unlike Bridget Bardot I actually look.
2:: A girl I worked with whom I thought I didn’t like, I actually do like.  In fact, I am just a people liker, I have decided.  I like this about myself.  What I don’t like is that I said some not nice things about her before I decided I liked her.
3:: While I realize that I’d have had more fun had I gotten drunker and stayed out later like many other of my cohorts did, and while I do feel like I missed out some, driving to work on Monday not being mortified about something I said/did was refreshing.
4:: Seeing cell phone video of my friend going an impromptu singing performance on stage really drove home the benefit of non-mortification.
5:: Cell phone video is the death of fun.
All in all, the party was a success, though slighted underwhelmed.  I had fun without having TOO much fun.  And apparently, I looked pretty damn good doing it.
In other news::
I followed my gut [and my readers’ advice] and called Ratatouille.  After all his efforts in attempting to convince me that I ought to give him another chance, he has failed to call me back.  Hope you didn’t get too attached to his tag, readers, because into the graveyard of men he goes.

I dance alone.

I am coming to realize that a good measure of how happy I am is how frequently I close the blinds and dance around the house by myself.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see

Love in the Time of Poker Rooms.

I received the following email today::

<begin email>

Hey [name redacted to preserve Diet Coke’s privacy],

It’s [name redacted to protect cute boy that lives in Colorado I uselessly have a momentary crush on] from the [hotel name redacted for no reason at all] poker room.  It was too bad I didn’t run into you again!  I tremendously enjoyed our conversation and wanted you to have my contact info in case you want to stay in touch, so I looked you up on the Lexis attorney search. 

Did you end up walking back to the Bellagio in the rain??

Keep in touch.

<end email>

Interestingly enough, the above email is not from G-male, but another super cute poker boy [even by mom thought so!] with whom I didn’t even exchange contact info.  Didn’t bother to blog him because figured he was gone for-evs.  Little did I know he would stalk me!  God bless him.
P.S. – yes, I am aware that his email kind of is not funny or awesome or compelling.  But he gets points for boldness, right?
 

Thanksgiving in Las Vegas.

My family, unable to suppress the degenerate gambler gene, decided that an appropriate place to spend the Thanksgiving holiday was in Las Vegas.  Funny that after the countless hugely entertaining trips I have taken to Vegas with my friends – drinking myself into oblivious and doing other things I wouldn’t blog about [yes, there are things I don’t blog about, amazingly] – that this trip with my parents might be the most fun I have had there.  [Although the time I threw a semi-douchbag’s shoe off the top of a hotel’s rooftop bar was pretty awesome…and admittedly unsafe/stupid*]

Upon reaching Vegas, despite the exhaustion I was feeling over the four hour plus drive that commenced at 5am, I made a bee-line for the poker room, where I remained [sans food, rest, or bathroom break] for a solid seven hours.  Unable to stave off my growling stomach any longer, I pried myself away from the table even though I was getting ridiculously good cards all night.  After I filled my belly, sleepiness prevailed and I headed for the comfort of my room.

I had been asleep only a few hours when my mom rushed into the room in an excited frenzy, shouting about my getting out of bed and us going out for Midnight Madness. Midnight Madness [as per the Bellagio blackjack  dealer that had become my mom’s new BFF] turned out to be an early bird sale at the Primm Outlets, some 40 miles south of Las Vegas.  Next thing I know, me, my mom, and a couple dozen Korea ladies [also apparently my mom’s new BFFs from the blackjack tables] were in a hotel shuttle, in route to the madness.

I used to think that people who would rise at the crack of dawn for a sale [for any reason, really] were crazies, but now I totally get it.  Before the sun had come up I had already scored sweet deals on a Versace  dress [seriously, $49.99 for a dress that was $2,600!!!!!], a Marc Jacobs bag,  three Nanette Lepore dresses, and an amazingly heavenly cashmere wrap.  Madness, indeed.

I slept through much of the next day, only to promptly return to the poker room upon arising.  Shortly after I had comfortably posted up at a 3-6 limit table, a gentleman [hereinafter, G-male] arrived.  I call him a gentleman because he truly was – he ordered tea amidst a table full of jack & coke and vodka soda’s, for one thing.  But he also had an exceedingly polite and kind demeanor.  Anyhow, I dug him.  In the real world, he would have scored a seven on my interest scale.  But poker playing guys are hot to me [unless they suck].  And the geek-lover in me really took interest upon learning that he works at Google – devising the algorithm that determines which ads go where.

After several hours (I am talking a LOT of hours) of playing poker beside me, G-male departed to meet up with his friends.  But not before giving me his information and letting me know that if I am ever in San Francisco, I should get in touch with him because he would “love to show me around town.”  I certainly have no expectation of seeing G-male again, but spending the better part of the day playing with him totally made me giddy.

Shortly after G-male left, I too took off [my butt was starting to ache and I was supposed to meet up with my parents for a late dinner].  As I headed back into the main casino, I heard someone call my name.  I turned around to find Shaggy Hair Boy.  I had known that Shaggy Haired Boy was spending the weekend with his roommate’s family who lived in town, but the meeting was totally unexpected and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the universe was trying to send me a sign.  The sign being, obviously, that I needed to make out with Shaggy Haired Boy.

Having already had a full day and being borderline late for my meeting with my parents, I decided that I would explore this further back in Los Angeles.

* He limped around on one foot all night and managed to be a total trooper about it, hence his only being a semi-douchbag as opposed to a full fledged one.