A day of net surfing.

I will be surfing for environmental training organizations. Or just to be specific: organizations that provide trainings on waste reduction, recycling, and composting.

I just had my hair done and I now look like that stupid Vaness guy from F4. It embarasses me that I should know his name, but Xarra is into the whole Meteor Garden phenomena and there are just some things you can't help but know. Plus, we were supposed to watch his movie--Star Runner...or something like that.

Xarra just bought new glasses and we needed something to do while we waited for the eye shop to finish her prescriptions. I'd been bugging her to watch a movie but eventually had to shut up when I ran out of money at the end of the day, so she offered to pay. And since she was footing the bill I was going to have to go with her movie selections.

Unfortunately--or fortunately--the Star Runner wasn't showing anymore and we had to settle for Intolerable Cruelty.

We had a blast watching it, since the characters appealed to the bitch in both of us.

Anyway, my place is filled with regional consultants and it feels weird to have other people in my working space. I'm used to having this area all to myself, but now I have to put up with PhDs yakking about salaries and technical stuff. They are scientists and capitalists, and we all know that both never shut up.

Everyone is all chatty and reared up to go to Clark. It's like being stuck in a car that kid who keeps asking if we're there yet, only this time there are close to 30 people and they are all adults. The only thing i'm looking forward to is the chance to look at cheaper electronics and the three hour car ride since I need to catch up on my sleep.

Call me a Scrooge but I really do lack faith in these people's capabilities to throw a kickass party.

Last years x-mas party had lousy catering and even lousier music. After a brief interlude of "swing", we proceeded to play out the whole set of Chorus Girl Tunes. There's only so much 80's bubblegum shit that I can take.

The highlight of the evening was me dancing with Jerry Bisson, head honcho of the environmental department at USAID, ie. THE PEOPLE WHO GIVE MONEY. I had a great time using the swing steps that I'd recently learned and he was an excellent lead.

For filler, I sent borg themed messages to my dad and me made a cool show of replying in trek manner.

To digress...My dad is a semi trek fan. He loves the show but you'll never catch him with a bunch of collectible cards. And he won't go through the trouble of watching certain eps over and over again, nor will he harass anyone to download the episodes because she doesn't have broadband connection and she can't afford the DVD's.

In any case, my dad rescued me last year when I told him that I was going to get drunk. I made lame "I am borg" pun and said I was on my fourth glass of wine.

Alcohol and I do not agree. My body seems to favor a select number of libations. I haven't found out which ones will leave me passed out after just one drink. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I can consume a sizable of bottle of gin with nothing so much as a mild buzz while a half glass of white wine has me crawling towards my bed.

I was already a little dull and just on my second glass when I danced with Jerry Bisson--head honcho of USAIDs Environmental Division (i.e. the guy who's ass we have to kiss). Thank God I didn't have to do anything but those stupid 80's dance moves after my fourth otherwise I would have been a blubbering idiot.

....

Latest development: I have just found out that I have to dance "otso-otso" and I can't away from it.

Fucking shitass sonfabitch! Ghaycha!

I am too bored to come up with any creative swear words. But what the hey, I don't swear very well anyway.

I am just fucking pissed that I have to dance an incredibly vulgar dance just to be sociable. What the fuck did I do today to deserve this.

(To commemorate the moment, I am playing "Save Me" by Aimee Mann)

My mind is still catching up to the fact that I am about to do something that's humilliating and there is nothing I can do about it. It's being asked which drink i'd rather have: cyanide or arsenic. You know your going to die a horrible death, why bother being poetic about it. Might as well down the damn thing and get it over with.

Scrooge my ass. I don't care if it's their Bar Mitzvah. I will be a total bitch in doing this.

I wish that they'd at least understand why I didn't want to do any of these dances. It's just...disgusting. Vulgar. Worse than all the stupid dances that I've ever seen.

I would rather do GO GO dancing.

Ugh, now the council old are practicing the cha-cha on the space behind me.

SHUT UP!!!!