your job's a joke, you're broke...your love life's D.O.Aaaaaaa!

Saturday was staff party, and oh what a blunderous staff party it was. It all started to go wrong when one decided she wanted to go dancing, and we were all too drunk and stoned to realize that only one of us wanted to go dancing. Like all great drunken posses, everyone thought everyone else wanted to go, and for fear of being left behind, or seen as an unwelcome dissenter, we all tagged along. What followed could only have been a metaphor for the evening; we were trying too hard, and it had to end badly. As formulaic as a sitcom episode, events unfolded. A bouncer insulted 'Rachel', telling her she looked old and obviously didn't need to be id'ed; 'Chandler' was cornered by a personal trainer who couldn't stop talking about power bars and protein shakes; and the last straw - 'Monica' slipped on the stairs of a seedy hole-in-the-wall bar and took 'Phoebe' out with her. 'Phoebe' was unfortunately holding a beer at the time. Disastrous.

Dear readers, I apologize for the (gratuitous) use of the names of Friends' characters; in an attempt to disguise the identity of those involved to avoid humiliation, and to highlight the sitcom-esque nature of our evening, I resorted to pseudonyms stolen from lame-alicious pop-television-culture. Also, I have only a hole left in my brain where imagination once lived: tv has taken my words and replaced them with insipid bits of unoriginal information

The bruises on my ass still hurt when I sit down, and continue to discover new colours of the spectrum every day.


it's like you're always stuck in second gear...