I now fully understand why 13 is an unlucky number. On my first day of work, I stood in the elevator alone for maybe 5 minutes debating whether or not I would push the button that said 13 to take me to my floor. Wasn't the first time I was clueless of what to do inside a box, but yet I went against fate and pushed. And now I find that 13 is not only the amount of days I have to wait to get paid, but also the amount of dollars I have to get me there. "We only give cash advances if it's a really really desperate situation. Are you in such a situation?"
Okay look bitch I'm not gonna get on the floor and beg, but I need to get my drink on. Trust me, I know how to be desperate, just look at my dating track record.
Regardless. In the spirit of youth I still went out on Monday night to an event called "Fuc* me with a pineapple it's Monday!" Nothing made me feel more at home than watching a bunch of drag queens back from the debutante ball performing Dolly Parton's "Workin 9 to 5". But why did I feel deserving to go out on a Monday? Because I didn't drink all weekend. Why? Because I fell down a flight of stairs and onto the main dance floor in front of everyone at a club on Thursday. It was almost as bad but way less rewarding than the time I drunkenly dropped Ginny Brown onto a concrete driveway. But it was quite the joyous experience waking up on Friday covered in Hungry Jack's and having to piece together why I was sore and scabbed. Good thing I'm an expert at doing that.
But nevertheless heading to work last Tuesday still a bit buzzed was quite a success.
I found for 8 hours I was required to play with stickers. I KNEW never growing up past the maturity of a six year old was a great idea! And now I can get paid for it. So we play a daily trivia game around lunchtime in the office. Being the only one in the whole office to know the answers to the questions: "What is Will's surname in Will&Grace?"; "What band was Justin Timberlake a member?"; "Who is the voice of Dory in 'Finding Nemo'?", has really given me a boost in the corporate social ladder. And when I say 'boost', I mean booster seat, because I need one. I failed to know a simple question about baseball as everyone turned to me expecting me clearly to know
since I'm a yank. I refuse to tell you what the question was since it's embarrassingly obvious, but the answer was "catcher". How I failed to know that I'll never know. But I'm glad after only three days everyone knows just how special I really am.
But I am disheartened and famished, so this entry is going to be as brief as the amount of people that are actually showing up to Heather Gaines' 21st birthday party. I'm considering walking to the Espy to chill with mates and cure my thirst with a $13 martini. It's time to put the fun in funeral as I boldly march to my demise these next two weeks. I have no doubt I'll get by. In the words of a dear friend of mine…just keep swimming….just.keep.swimming!
And speaking of still swimming.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAVENS!
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