exitstrategy

It has been a while since I last blogged (I guess this is confession?), and there is no cohesive way to let you all know the crazy stuff that happened last week.  So, I am going to lay it all out there - diary style.Monday:After offering to sell my soul to get on a case, I FINALLY got some work.  I was put on a TRO which means lots of work that needs to be done immediately.  Since it was going to be a late night, I was told to order dinner.  The “team” I was working with likes to dine together in the lunchroom.  See, there are two types of late night workers:  the ones who eat dinner at their computers so they can get the h*ll out of there and the ones that like to eat dinner together and talk about the work and then work and stay there even longer.  Yep, this is the latter of the two teams.Dinner was chinese.  I am trying to eat healthy again so I ordered mine steamed with the sauce on the side, but of course I ate too much rice.  But that is neither here nor there.  The team sat around the table, eating and talking about the case. There were also some little tidbits of life stories thrown in.  Then, when we had finished eating, big daddy’s secretary gave us each a fortune cookie.  She suggested that we go around the cirle and read aloud our fortunes.  WHAT?  I am stuck working in h*ll until all hours, I am not at some adult camp.  No Kumbiyah.  But that wasn’t even the worst part.  Big daddy modified the campfire roundtable - he suggested we add “in bed” after each fortune.  Seriously?  What kind of a camp is this.  Oh and his fortune was about experiencing unexpected success at work.Tuesday:I had to get to work early.  I was called into Big Daddy’s office where the client was.  We drafted stuff and I ran around and did all kinds of stuff asap.  The client was annoying.  He never stopped talking.  So three plus hours into the work race, I was told I had to run to court.  I had only 10 minutes to get there.  So, I ran into a cab (in heels and a suit - looking psychotic), ran up to the court room and stopped for a second to catch my breath.  I looked on the court call to see when I was up and the opposing counsel approached me.  The guy was not happy that he had been stuck with me.  And he was even less happy with what I was going to tell him.  So we go to into the courtroom and two minutes later we were done.  As we were heading out there was a reporter talking to one of them.  I overheard the reporter ask if there was an attorney for the other side.  At that point I had slipped away towards the elevator.  ”Its that little girl in the black dress.”  And I felt the guy pointing at me.  Not knowing what to do, and waiting for the elevator to arrive, I reached in my purse and grabbed a banana - I mean when all else fails eat right?  Wrong.  I was eating a banana as the group of men stared over towards me.  What is wrong with me.  Luckily, just as I realized how inappropriate I was, the elevator doors opened and I literally jumped in.  Yes, gentleman, the little girl in the black dress deep throating a banana has left the building.Wednesday:Wednesday night I had a date with a guy I met at an event the week before.  Since my work was done, I spent the day obsessing about the night.  I couldn’t remember what the guy looked like so I had my friend send me pics she had downloaded from facebook.  After analyzing them thoroughly, I then sent them to a list of friends for feedback.  I mean didn’t he look short?  Was he fat?  His hair was greasy no?  I mean I do realize I am CRAZY but it was a good way to pass the time.  When the date came, he picked me up in his car.  He opened the door for me (which I cannot remember ever happening on a date, although I don’t usually get picked up on my dates.  The last time when a date drove me, as soon as he turned on the car, the music started playing Shania’s “Man!  I feel like a WomAn ).  We went to some restaurant and shared.  We got a bottle of wine (per usual).  And it was actually ok.  Although I think I was taller than him.  My picture analysis was right.  I should be in the C.I.A.  Or, a stalker.  Either way.Thursday:Thursday I had an event in the evening.  There was an apple-tini bar and people were HAMMERED.  I struck up a conversation with some law student who was tall, but had bad breath.  He talked my ear off about how he was going to be “wildly successful.”  Unfortunately, he still had two more years as a non-wage earning law student or I would prob have asked him to move in and retire early.  After we had parted ways, I was hanging around waiting for my friend to finish up her “seduction” of a dude she had met.  I was watching some clowns on the dance floor and this one guy was trying to start up a Grease style dance when you go two by two down the line, freestyling.  Try as he might, it didn’t catch on.  But, it was my sign to leave which I did, although not before being asked by some douche (who I know and made out with once) if he could bed me down for $36.  (”It’s a lucky number in jewish tradition.”  ”Well, not for you.”)Friday:The monthly work happy hour.  It was off-site which meant that there were less people but still a few partners.  During the happy hour, I decided to take part in a contest between myself and another woman who likes to buy stuff to see who can spend the least in a 6 month period.  Now, granted, this lady likes to get stuff, but she does have to buy for 3 children and a husband.  So, if I lose, well than I should probably just move home since it will be only a matter of time before I have to declare bankruptcy.Saturday and Sunday - I don’t know.  Nothing much happened.  I guess I was recovering from the week.  And it all starts over tomorrow.  Oy.So how does one end a diary entry?  I cannot remember.  I know the opener is dear diary.  I guess the end is something like:Yours forever,Fat Spinsta

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