Debbie Does Drivel

Oh Lord, how my life has changed in one short month.
I'm usually one for change...I get bored so easily...but these ebbs and flows are especially changeicious and I'm not sure I can keep up.
First of all -- the job.
I've truly been busier there in 30 days than I'd been in 30 months at my old place.
And sadly, I'm not being hyperbolic.

I like it. I do. I enjoy being busy. It allows me to talk to myself and run my fingers frantically through my hair -- acts I perform daily anyway -- but it's nice to do them in context.
There are 10 times the people at this job than at my last...so many interesting personalities at play here.
AND, our Christmas party is at a downtown hotel with a DJ...not at my mangy boss' house replete with Anne Murray's Canadian Christmas thrumming in the background.
So, that's good.

This business trip I embarked upon allowed me to come into contact with many of the eclectic personas mentioned above...and some I contacted whether I liked it not.

I know I'm totally babbling. I really really want to eat my soy taco now, but feel I must update this blog or else. And that's another thing -- I eat a lot at this job. I'm always hungry. They have a vending machine! It excites me. I can't push enough shiny quarters into it. Lots of fun. Lots of fun. Lots of trail mix is what it really is. Am I still babbling?

OK. The business trip. It starts out with my contracting a cold. Yellow snot made a brief appearance. I felt like a shitkabob. Yet, I must fulfill my jobly duties. Of course I am driving to Vegas. Meaning I borrow my sister's car as the '89 Cadillac Sedan DeVille is so 13-plus years old. I take temporary ownership of Lisa's car at 7AM and get on the road. I must be in Vegas by 12:30PM. Five miles in, the car is shaking violently. There are 25,000 miles on this thing...so car trouble initially seemed out of the question. Eventually I determine from my sister that there may be a tire issue.
Yyyeahh. Thanks for the timely and useful update.
Have already slapped her silly, so I'm moving on...

I now need to rent a car. I'm in Lake Elsinore. It is 8:30AM. I am pretty much as fucked as fucked can be.
But goodness prevails.
I procure a car, load the 14 fricking boxes I'm hauling for work inside and take off. Chevy Malibus are the end all be all of vehicular goodness...
babble babble babble

So I get to New York New York with time to spare. I hang in the bar waiting for my crew, as a colleague has the room under her name. That's right, I'm sharing a room. With one of the most uptight individuals your creative and imaginative brains could envision. This person gets up at 6AM for a 9AM obligation. And she still is 15 minutes late. I tried to see what she did for 3 hours, but I'm too obvious. So I still don't know. Plus, she said things like "I'm going to stink up the bathroom now." I know poo is a reality, people. It's just that saying you are going poo seems so crass.

So yo I'm in the bar. Make conversation with Jerry the Bartender and Bob the Car Dealer on My Right. When my party eventually arrives, they figure me for Faye Dunaway in Barfly. But I don't care. Because I've lost my voice. That's right. I still feel like hell. Plus, I have my period. I know I just spoke of crass...but this is integral to making you all understand my misery. I have the worse periods known to mankind. Pain wracks my body. I am bloated, pimply, prickly, cranky, ampy, booby, hurty, funky when I have my period. SO I take ibuprofen. Then I enter a pain reliever fugue state and get more weird than I have a reputation for. So basically my new boss wonders when the Body Snatchers will return the girl he hired.
babble babble

Well yeah, then it's to the trade show. Walk forever to the show floor, then pretty much turn around and leave because it's already 5PM. The parking lot is aflush with cars, so my boss of all bossess (company CEO) and a few other people suggest we get a drink at the Hilton. The men decide I must have brandy because it cures the yellow snot thing and I have a snifter on an empty stomach. You can imagine what happens next. I start to babble babble babble.
Then we have Chinese food. It was so good. The eggplant was very tender, and you usually don't get that because the skin makes it all tough to chew. But not at the Golden Dragon.

Anyway, I just want to go home, but I can tell by the way the Russian businessman is looking at me (friend of the CEO's) that I'm going to be verbally sexualized...
he had a thick accent though, so thankfully I am oblivious to the rude attack on my chastity.

At any rate, throughout the trip, I am privy to men's fingertips making runs for my butt. One man I worked with actually cupped a buttock. He was drunk, but still...(this doesn't bother me as much as it probably should as I've known many drunk men and don't take them seriously. Though I should). Same man also tried to kiss me on the lips many times. I however managed to blind him with my .25 carat wedding ring and made a run for it.

Another man pretended to be my "husband" for the trip. He asked me to carry his sunglass case and garage door opener in my purse...thus cementing our stupid spousal arrangement. He also brought me many snifters of brandy throughout the trip and called me on my cell to check up on me. Hmmm. Yep, sounds just like Kev.

And yeah! This is the fun part: a 23-year-old said he thought I was sexy! Is that not so sweet? He's crazy, yes, but really a sweetheart.

So lots of male attention. I have never received so much of it in such gooby gobs. I think it had something to do with the lost voice. No neurotic whine to push the guys away.

Am I still here? Where's my soy taco? I love those chunks of GMO-soy bits. Yikes. Must go. Getting hungry. Wish I had a vending machine.
Why am I still here?

babble babble