Everything is wrong with me
Monday, August 02, 2004
 
Monday
On Friday night, I went to a firm-sponsored open bar for all legal assistants and legal assistant staff. As I mentioned Friday, I am neither. Here's what I remember:

- Vodka tonics. Like, over twenty. Easily.

- Missing dinner. First, there was a line (it was a buffet). So I decided to wait until it died down. Then, when the friends I was sitting with went to get dinner and asked me to go with them, I declined because I had just gotten two more drinks (double fisting all night). After I had finished the drinks, everyone else was done eating. I didn't want to be the token "fat guy eating while everyone else is talking and having a good time and this fat bastard is sitting by himself eating and getting shit all over himself and I saw him drop at least two shrimp on the floor, pick them up and wipe them off on his shirt, and eat them", so I had no dinner.

- Meeting a ton of new people, and having no idea what their names were/are. I am terrible at names. Good with faces, but terrible with names. Especially if you're attractive - if you're hot, I promise I will remember you much, much longer than you will remember me. And I mean this in the creepiest way possible. But my awfulness with names is multiplied with each drink I have. This is even further multiplied if you have a weird name. I'm sorry, but if your name is something like "Clissandra", there's just no way I'm going to a) hear that or b) remember that. And this is not my fault. What the hell were your parents thinking?

- I've got nothing after about 11pm. We went to a nearby house party, and I remember it was hot, and I was drinking floaters. Then I went home.

I know, I know - it sounds very exciting. But it was the kind of drunk where you're really drunk, but you're kinda in an unfamiliar setting, and you're not so drunk that you can take off your shirt and horse-whip some people with it while singing "Lady Madonna" at the top of your lungs and smoking two menthol cigarettes at once.

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There's really nothing like New York City - all the great restaurants, the hot nightspots, the wide variety of entertainment, and, oh yeah, the constant fear that you are going to get blown the fuck up by a fucking crazy person.

The terror alerts have been raised in NYC, DC, and North Jersey (?) because the government has obtained credible information about specific targets. What does this mean to me? "Holy fucking shit." I work about two blocks away (on the same street) as the New York Stock Exchange. So I get to spend the day in a full-blown eight hour panic attack. Great.

What's even better is that on Thursday morning, I'm flying. Can't wait! Bring on the valium, because Jason is a pussy.

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Last night's Ali G Show was amazing. This guy is on to something. I saw him originally when I was abroad in London in 2000, but I thought it was stupid. If I had only embraced him at the time, I could be saying to everyone, "Look how cool I am! I knew about this shit four years ago!"

But my goodness...when Borat started singing the song in front of all those cowboys about grabbing the Jew by the horns and throwing him down the well, I was on the floor in hysterics. And it's ok for me to laugh at that because my girlfriend is Jewish (and by "girlfriend" I mean "some guy I met once in biology class").

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[Bad stand-up intro joke of the day]

"I'm very happy today. Very happy to be here. Actually, today is a special day. My third wife was born today. Yeah, she's 6 pounds, 8 ounces. Hopefully, in the next, oh, 16 years, she won't get much bigger than that - I like 'em small framed."

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[Quote of the weekend]

"Are we, like, obnoxiously ugly?"
- My roommate Brian, wondering aloud why we don't have a) girlfriends or b) even any women to hang out with.

By the way, the conversation that followed:

Me: [eating a pint of limited edition Haagen Dazs Vanilla Caramel Brownie ice cream] "Well, not like obnoxiously ugly, but we're pretty fucking ugly. But hey, at least you have a good body. I am gross."
Brian: "Yeah, but at least you have a job. I don't even have a job."
Me: "That's true."
[10 seconds of silence]
Me: "You wanna get high?"
Brian: "You read my mind."



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