Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, October 07, 2004
thank god it's over ("Does anyone have any pills and/or Stolichnaya and/or lo mein? Anyone?")
Well, the presentation was actually nothing to worry about. I didn't even give most of it - as I was preparing to do a dry run this morning, my main boss stepped in and said, "So which part do you want me to talk about?" I had to restrain myself from saying, "Um, the whole fucking thing", but I could not restrain myself from getting an erection, which my boss promptly noticed, and now it's all weird between us.

Had the environment been different, I would be saying that I kicked ass. I thought the room was going to be tense as the attorneys in the room and those from the other offices (via videoconference) looked on, scowling at me and shaking their heads as sweat dripped from my forehead onto my gigantic plate of ribs, and my hands slowly began to touch my genitals, as I am inclined to do when nervous, but it wasn't like that. Instead, it was bunch of attorneys basically gabbing and having lunch.

I had forgotten one of the basic rules of the law firm hierarchy: the more power you have, the cooler you are. For example, when I was a legal assistant, about the worst thing that could happen was that you were stuck working closely with a first-year associate. Everyone would boss them around and come down on them, so they'd often take out their frustrations on the only people they could: the legal assistants.

But partners - what the hell do they care? They're successful multi-millionaires. They've seen just about everything in their careers, and don't get riled up for anything. Prior to walking in the room, with my armpits assured of dryness because of the paper towels I had stuffed in them, I thought, "My god - these are some of the most powerful people, um, around." But then I realized what they were probably thinking as I walked into the room: "Great, here's another presentation when I just want to eat lunch - whatever. Wait a minute - where did he get that piece of corn on the cob? Is that whipped cream he's putting on it?"

So then I became relaxed. I started, my boss talked, I talked, he talked - it went rather smoothly. At the end, there were a few questions, and really, that was it. I know this is kind of anti-climactic; you were expecting some sort of spectacle in which I dropped to the floor, had a seizure, shat myself, and then immediately returned to consciousness and had to pretend that nothing happened and the room didn't smell like poo. But you know what? Didn't happen.

And you know what? I don't give a fuck if nothing exciting happened. It's over, and I'm feeling a mix of exhaustion, relief, relaxation, and apathy. I feel like I just had sex, except I'm not apologizing profusely or going through my wallet and saying, "I only have $68 on me, but if you want I can run down to the ATM."

The only moment of "excitement" came at the end of the presentation, when the attorney moderator thanked me and my boss actually physically patted me on the back. I nearly blurted out, "That's how you do it!" a la Frank the Tank, or pulled an Under Armour guy and screamed, "We gone protect this house!" But, much like all the rage and loneliness I feel on a day to day basis or when watching couples hold hands or slow dance, I was able to bury the excitement and satisfaction deep within my ricotta-filled heart.

And now looking forward to the next few days, I'm fucking psyched. I took off tomorrow, so my plan is to go home, make a giant fucking dinner, drink a few bottles of wine and watch baseball and "Fahrenheit 9/11", which I've never seen (hopefully I won't end up spitting up the blood, but that's a chance I have to take). My day tomorrow will consist of sleeping in, eating pancakes, buying $200 worth of drugs, getting high, and watching "The Cosby Show." And oh yeah, I'll probably beat off at least five times.

My buddy Joe, my former common-law husband (since we went to high school, college, and lived together for a year post-college), is coming to town and after about four drinks we're going to be shitting in our hands and throwing it at passersby. We're seeing Cake tomorrow (an excellent band) and then going to drink our weight in booze. I will also try to eat my weight in rice pudding. I got a head start on this today, and we're already up to four pounds. Not too shabby.

So I will not be posting tomorrow, but maybe I can pull something together later (I really don't know - like you fucking care). But, if you don't hear again from me, have a delightful weekend. It's fall, and fall is lovely. Soon, it will be winter, which is not lovely. Make the most of these last few remaining weekends of nice weather by going out and trying to have sex with someone under the influence. And if it works, all I ask is that at the moment of climax you think of me, riding a really overweight horse in nothing but my tighty-whities, drinking straight from a bottle of Jack and yelling racial slurs at nearby parked cars.

(Now I turned myself on with that image)

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