check your sugarcoat at the door

end of week shenans
May 3, 2011, 12:50 am
Filed under: daily, frenz

After feeling so confident that I was thoroughly understanding the many new intricacies of the new job, I printed some forty plus color pages and quadruple-finity checked them.

They were covered in red ink where corrections are required when I left the office. So, ya know. SON OF A. But it’s best that I’m the one catching these and not the folks who would have the ability to rip us off several hundred dollars because the new project manager is an asstard.

Over the weekend, I bar hopped around with Ree. It was the tamest night of drinking we’ve ever had. We maintained a reasonable volume, didn’t drunkenly swear newfound friendships to other patrons, and were each at our own homes before one o’clock. I didn’t even find any unexplainable notes on a bar napkin in my purse the next morning.* My mid-twenties went directly to into my mid-fifties this year. My most exciting lunch break used to be a giant mug of beer and a grilled cheese. Now it’s a whole wheat flat bread sandwich at the park, where I can get fresh air and quiet time to read.

I am reading a comic book, if that helps.

*We had an especially drunken week night once and the next afternoon, we hit a Starbucks on our lunch break. When I went for the cash in purse, I pulled out a crumbled napkin that said “rebel girl, rebel girl, rebel girl” in red ink. Ree recalled me hiding what I was writing and but had no explanation for the nonsense. I’m still trying to figure out how some repetitive Bikini Kill lyrics could be so top secret.

My mama hosted a jewelry party on Sunday that was champagne brunch themed. I piled up handmade hair flowers and enjoyed too many snacks and glasses of bubbly mixed with various fruits and juices. It was quickly becoming nap time in the later afternoon but I had to force out the reserve energy to get my happy ass to a huge thirtieth birthday in LA at this place. The birthday girl had rented it out for the night. Of the FOUR HUNDRED people that were invited, a solid ONE HUNDRED FIFTY had RSVP’d. I am confident that I don’t know that many people who would care to see my face on my birthday, dirty thirtieth or otherwise. But I have about four years to get there.

I’ve successfully untagged myself from most of the pictures that occurred over the last few days.

By this morning, my throat was equally raw and phlegmy from all the flavored cigars. From carrying them around, my purse smells so, so awful.




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