Confessions of A Naughty Girl

The Dancing Circle Strikes Again

Three days and I am still fighting through a recovery.

Ah yes, the annual work holiday party was on Friday. And true to most festivities during the holiday season, it couldn't have been planned for a worse time. Last week, some of my friends were laid off, I had a personal health scare, I worked until 8 or later every night last week for a client presentation that was supposed to happen at 10 am today but got pushed back until tomorrow (including 7 hours on Saturday), my parents gave me hell for having a cat, and I cried for the first time in months. And I don't mean like a little tearshed. I mean like throwing clothes and other small objects across the apartment and screaming swear words like a delinquent child who didn't get the last ice cream sandwich at snack time.

I swear, nothing makes me feel better than a good temper tantrum every now and then.

Suffice it to say that professionally, personally, mentally, and in just about every way imaginable, there is quite a bit of pressure on me these days to perform well. I don't think I'm the only one that's ever gone or is going through this, but you see, where I have a problem with this is when the very workplace that has me responsible for eating, breathing, sleeping, coughing, sneezing, snotting, and shitting three accounts at one time expects me to attend a semi-formal holiday party with a date and be all festive and shit. F*ck that.

Despite my unusually and uncharacteristically bad attitude, I took Friday night as an opportunity to cut loose and forget about my crap week, and forget I did. I called someone by the wrong name, almost got sick in someone's car, and woke up with more head hurting than Kid Rock after an orgy night with white trash groupies who use their teeth.

Here's what I don't remember: a lot. Here's what I do remember: I arrived with an empty stomach and left with about a bottle and a half of white wine in my system, which rendered me a little slurred in the speech and caused quite a bit of mayhem on the dance floor. Again, I was singlehandedly responsible (well, with a little help from Harpy) for starting the dancing circle on the dance floor of the art gallery where the party was held, and this time, my dancing circle was so successful that the next thing I knew, the CFO and his Mrs. were doing the Electric Slide, and our Accounts Payable clerk was shaking her ass to Kanye West's "Gold Digger". And so I pat myself on the back yet again.

However, having known that I was going to have to work all day Saturday, I could have maybe taken a rest on the alcohol intake, as I woke up with dry mouth, my head pounding, an insatiable appetite for anything fried, and the general feeling of looming, impending death. I haven't had a hangover this bad since I woke up in the floor of my hallway after a friend's farewell party in May.

So the story ends where it begins: three days and I am still fighting through a recovery.

posted by KA @ 7:43 PM