Beer Goggles and Cash Bars

Last night staff awards banquet was fun although I hate going to stuff like that. It was a change of pace to see people in suits and ties/dresses when I'm accustomed to seeing them in a t-shirt and jeans every day and no one is ever going to complain about free food.

Despite my poor attitude going into the debacle, I actually had a lot of fun, save for the fact that I was seated across from [redacted] (tThe Pansy invited him to join our table, boo) and that everyone decided that today was th day that they were going to try and upstage one another for top honours of biggest lush.

The night ended rather abruptly and it seemed that most of my friends/co-workers were visibly drunk and we parted ways. I got a ride uptown with our boss because we had to walk the dog and since The Pansy couldn't consistently keep herself upright, I became the de facto dog-walker. She babbled a bit and wondered out loud if it was weird that she missed [redacted] (yes, it is because he's a tool who doesn't care about anyone but himself) and why her new manfriend hadn't texted her back (she was drunk and didn't feel her phone vibrating when he wrote back).

I was tired so I waited for her to fall into a light drunken slumber before I left and made my way home, semi-relieved that I didn't have to work today.

Ladies who lunch and the boys that love them

The weekend started out well, with the second of two staff meetings, scheduled for 9 pm on a Friday night no less, it's really cramping my style. Apparently when The Archaeologist was making phone calls about PK (it was super last minute because it was rescheduled from next week at 6 or 7 pm yesterday) he was actually terrified of my reaction, practicising a script quickly to himself before I picked up, and actually sighed with relief when he thought I wasn't picking up.

My question is why am I so scary. It's been said before (by last year's pledges who were apparently terrified that they would be disappointing me) but I suppose that's because I put off an air of being hard to please - my voice mail message is 'Hey it's [gingerbread]; impress me' after all. But come on, I'm not a complete ogre.

I laughed it off, and simply told The Archaeologist that he could repay me for the inconvenience by buying me drinks the following night as casually as I could. He laughed nervously, and I gave him a 'No, really, I'm serious' look and he reluctantly agreed that that would indeed be a fair trade. Score!

In a mere 12 hours I fully expect to be well on my way to a 'frat party drunk'-stage of inebriation and pushing the dial to 11, so to speak.

In other news, The Engineer, texted me last night (5 times!) to let me know what he was up to. I was watching The Breakup with a friend and kind of keeping the nature of the texts on the down lo until his final text made me laugh. She demanded to know who exactly I was being so secretive about and I had to tell her. She then proceeded to read the flurry of text messages he sent and broke into analysis mode.

I broke my 'no texting' rule to let him know that if he was down, he should come out with us. The Pansy sees us rekindling the fire in the near future, I disagree, but only time will tell. Part of the problem is that I have no idea where I want things to go with him, and he's getting kind of annoyed with my indecisiveness. My response to that: "It takes me 3 hours to decide what I'm having for lunch, you can't expect a decision from me anytime soon!"

We'll see...

On product knowledge

Huzzah!

I'm preparing for the longest day of work ever, because not only did some new girl just stop showing up for work yesterday, but one of our other girls got fired last night, so we're ultra short-staffed for today (I'm talking we've got half the amount of staff that we should have for a Sunday in the summer), one of the busier shopping days.

...and after work is over we've got at least an hour long product knowledge meeting for all 3 (or 4 depending on how you count it) skate store locations' employees - I have a feeling I'm not getting out of work before 9 tonight, which is fine so long as I don't have to work tomorrow, but since, for various reasons, our employess keep dropping like flies, I forsee another week of working 6 or 7 shifts in a row.

Right now, the only thing keeping me from having a complete nervous breakdown is the possibility of a McDonald's breakfast if I get to work early.

Please beat me to death with a Vans Slip On now