College, I think.
In any case, we had our office Christmas luncheon today, and I ended up getting one of the lead architect’s beers because he’d gotten an extra manhatten, and then I just sort of threw my whole, “I should only have two beers cause it’s an office Xmas party” thing out the window, and four or five beers later, everyone became terribly funny.
I purposely sat at the dorky kids table – I’m consistently amazed that even though I’ve gotten older, there’s still a “cool kids” table and a “dorky kids” table – mainly because I didn’t want to sit at the same table as Yellow, who was looking really fucking hot even though he’s gained some weight in the month or so since I last saw him in the office. In fact, I spent much of the luncheon pretending I wasn’t totally checking out Yellow the whole damn time.
Arg! Damn me and my “I can’t do casual sex” thing. I’ve seriously got to reform. If I can’t do relationships, I better figure out casual sex, cause casual sex sounds oh-so-great, especially during the holidays.
But I missed my chance with Yellow a long time ago by not responding to his persistent adolescent-like jibes about my granola hippie-dom, and I realize exactly why I shrugged off his friendliness and continue to sit at different tables than he is and ignoring him unless he says “hi” first – cause I’m attracted to him, but we have nothing in common. He doesn’t read books! What the hell am I gonna talk to somebody about when he doesn’t read books!
OK, yea, he rides motorcycles, I mean, races them, pseudo-professionally, and there’s nothing hotter than a guy with a passion, and I’ve had daydreams about riding motorcycles in Rome with Yellow, but long term? Realistically? He’d rather be attached at the hip to a tall, thin, blond. I’m tall, but I don’t fit the bill for the rest. So, basically, we’d both be “settling” and maybe getting some damn fine sex out of the deal.
Dammit, what’s wrong with that?? Damn my aversion to casual sex! I must fix this! Must overcome!
Spent the afternoon getting increasingly drunk along with everyone else (still am, and looking forward to breaking open the red wine here at the house) and talking about the stupid forwarded e-mail from Health & Safety about holiday pounds with the guys, who thought it was equally as condescending and stupid.
“The hell,” the lead architect said, “do they think we’re fourteen or something?”
This was followed by another martini.
We had some grab bag fun, and I traded the aromatherapy kit I’d pulled for a table fountain that one of the architects got. I also got one of the “door” raffle prizes, which was one of the many misc. food products sent to Blaine by well-meaning contractors. I won the brownies that I’d been eyeing in the refrigerator for the last three days. Unfortunatley, such things cannot live in my house, and I’ll end up eating one and throwing the rest of the box away.
So sad, to be an acknowledged binge eater who just can’t have such things in the house.
Arg.
Was dropped off at the train station by the HR manager, and managed to stumble home, still drunk, and bumble around the house. All of the clocks are blinking and have to be reset, so I guess the landlady’s been doing some work. She changed the back door lock, and left a message on the machine about where she’d left the new key.
Ha ha I thought, I could give a shit.
I thought about how hot Yellow looked.
Oh, man, I hate the holidays.
I’m going to get another drink and watch THX 1138.
