Forgive trhe blunders, sloshing in my system is 37% alcohol. Is that how it works? Do you add up the percentages contained in all the alcohol you drank to ascertain just how much alcohol you have? I digress.
It's a Monday. And yes it was Manic. Projects were losing steam left and right and steam had to be blown back into them. And I didn't know if I was doing a good job of that as I was lost in my own lack of steam. (If you don't know me, let me admit that I get caught up with my own diva-problems a lot as I tend to swim in a world created in my head - thus this blog.) So, despite my efforts to be peppey and cheerful and as perky as my yellow hoodie, I don't know if I was actually doing my team any service. Thankfully though, The Boss stepped in and his steam propelled what I could not. Then taking pity on me, (because I stood there unprofessionally pouting) The Boss gave me permission to hang around his office for a bit.
And that's when the party started.
See, the nice thing about The Boss is that he is one of the coolest male species I have ever met. He (along with my dad) should be the rulers by which I should measure "date-ables" against. (And yea, quote me on that.) And being part of the cool psecies, he had a whole rack of alcohol ready for the taking. And take them I did.
Glass upon glass, shot upon shot I drank - until I found myself dancing in a cubicle full of bemused co-workers. Soon, all the girls in yellow joined in. And we looked like some sort of deranged chorus line. A Yellow Cabaret composed of the uncoordinated. IT WAS FUN. We were partying like it was 1998, Halls-like Limoncellos (yellow as we were) , dripping down our frocks as we marched, twirled, and Tubthumpped away.
And as I type this, I can still feel the burning in my chest. And I know. I just fucking know that I deserve this happiness.
CHEERS!
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