Can I Party or WHAT?

I begin with a shout-out:
Jen: As you may have noticed, I didn’t call you. Sorry. It was my triannual Social Life Night. We’ll talk over the weekend, probably while my laundry’s in. Love, Your Babies’ Favorite Aunt.

And as long as I’m callin’ out my homies, let’s all welcome Jackie, first-time reader (and hopefully new member of my workplace fan base).
Remember: If I ever offend, it’s usually unintentional. I hurt when I love.

So I’m trying to get hype about this party tonight, but it’s hard because I’m so sleepy, with no real reason to be. I had a pita-wich for lunch (plus a bag of Baked Lays, half a cupcake, and a Tootsie Pop; I’m five years old!), so I should at least have some sugar energy, but I spent the last three hours in a screen-staring stupor. I think there was GHB in my hummus. Or my body has an inverse relationship to sugar than it used to have. I want a nap like crazy; it’s like I’m half asleep and half drunk. You can bet how much work isn’t getting done right now. I can’t even nap when I get home, because I need to work out before the party. Maybe I’ll try to jet out early, get 45 minutes of the Tae Bo in, quick shower, eyebrows, nap while hair dries. Best plan ever.

I am jazzed about the party—I just need to add a little caffeine to my excitement. Jacks (I’m still working on your nickname, Jackie, please be patient) has just made us some lovely Ethiopian Sidamo, courtesy of the S-bux. Say what you will about them (and I know you will), they know how to compensate an employee for the simple act of working. They take “perks” to a whole new level. Mmm… it’s starting to waft down the hall. Seriously, what is there not to love about coffee? The taste, the smell, the way it forces little crowbars under your eyelids when you would much rather be at home in bed? Ah, caffeine: It’s like a little raised ‘3’ you can tack on to your productivity. It’s a third amp that goes up to eleven. And what’s playing? Java Jive. Aw, yeah.

OK, it’s now slightly later, and I got little bit of that in me. Now Tae Bo sounds like an acceptable possibility. I have to envision it, or it just don’t happen.

I really wish I had finished my eyebrows last night, but after running I hung out with Kate, and I think the sad mood is completely banished as a result. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the cosmos that would be content to sit on my living room floor eating sandwiches, watching Wonderfalls and reading the cards off the Trivial Pursuit Book Lover’s Edition.


Yes. But I am now one of many, and this gives me strength.

I’m afraid.

As well you should be.

Hold me.


So there’s antisocial validation there, but it means I need to cram in the plucking and moisturizing and other assorted girliness before I can even start the primping. There’s a science to all of this that men would shudder at, if they only knew. I better get to some actual work if I am ever to justify leaving early.

Kate—don’t let them tease you—we can do a lame-ass hang-out anytime. There are more of us nerdgirls than you think; hell, I thought there were none.


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