Right. I don't even know where to start...
I was going to go on and on and on. And on. And on. And some more. As I do. About the fact, among other things, that my friend, with whom I went out last night (barely back and already reporting, dedicated, or wHat?) betrayed me. Yes, you did (she reads this, I'm not talking to myself). See, you be the judge (now I'm talking to whoever else reads this. Keep track, will you?). This party thing is called "WorkinZecity" (had I seen how they spelt it, I wouldn't have gone. I have principles). It's where people go on a Thursday to have a couple drinks - or ten - and pull. Let's not kid ourselves here. It's a meat market we're talking about. Anyway. That is so not the point. Yet. So why is it called "WorkinZecity (ugh)"?, I see your sweet little faces turned up in wonder to me and that makes me all warm inside. Because you supposedly go there straight from work, that's why. It starts at 7:00 p.m., after all. So when my friend told me about that thing, I did warn her that I was sartorially challenged and that it might be difficult for me to find a proper outfit. "No worries", was the little Judas' reply, "I'm going there in my work clothes, and it will be jeans and a shirt." Oh all right, then. So we met up at 8:30 for dinner, planning to go after some grub. Well. Let me just say that the day she shows up at work like that? I plan on being there. That's all I'm saying. Thank god or whoever, my toenails were painted, so my self-confidence level was way up. Way up.
Off we went, looking forward to the laughs, the drinks, the couple of twirls round the dancefloor, all that. To be honest, it is actually quite nice. To be completely honest, if it had been us two girls and most of the guys that were there, it would have been perfect. But then, there were the other girls. The other girls who read WorkinZecity (ugh) and understood Sex and the City. My self-confidence level went straight back down to my newly polished toes. And I don't like it when my self-confidence does that. And I think I finally understood the phrase "this guy is checking you out". See, after a while, I was ready to show my teeth for them to inspect. You can actually hear them appraising you in their minds, or with their friends. I'll need a lot more alcohol in me next time. Yeah, I'll be going back, I'm sure. I'm weak that way.
So although I was going to go on and on and on about that, thankfully, I won't. (That sigh of relief ? Heard it. It hurt.) But I checked my e-mail. And I'm in round 2 of the Voice of a city selection. So really, that and the fact that my nails are painted? Totally new me.