What…what is this feeling? Where is the hangover, the nausea, the thick lump of regret in my throat? Last night was Nice Hedge Fund’s holiday party, so one might easily assume that I’d be a greasy food-craving mess today, but I’m not! I’m alert! I’m happy! I had a great time at the party without falling down or deeply embarrassing myself in front of my coworkers!
Weird.
Seriously, the holiday party was so much fun. Delicious food, a cool downtown hotel venue, and plenty of sweet, glorious champagne to go around. I was pretty nervous when we first arrived, but I warmed up once we found C and D and I had a drink in my hand. C and I dominated the pool table, kicking our boyfriends’ asses and proving once and for all that we are the greatest duo in the history of cubicle assignments. But the real entertainment of the night was a flipbook station set up next to the dance floor. Couples or groups of people took turns dancing/generally making fools of themselves in front of digital video camera, and then each frame was printed out and stapled together into a little flipbook the size of business cards, old school movie style. My favorites are the one of R and me dancing together (he dances!) and with C and some other girls doing a conga line. So fun.
I realize that companies have their holiday party mid-week to discourage extremely bad behavior, but really, today was such a wash. Even those of us who weren’t hurting this morning spent the day looking at pictures instead of working. Easy strolled in wearing jeans, loafers and cufflinks, prompting Easier to give him hell (“They let you out of the Upper East Side dressed like that?”) while C’s boss greeted her with a “Morning, hustler,” when he arrived. I took advantage of the no-work attitude and went out after lunch to do some Christmas shopping in Columbus Circle. The only people left on my gift list are DadOh (always impossible) and SisterOh (I’ve got some ideas). Ten days until Christmas!
When I got home tonight, Roommate M was completely moved out, her keys on the kitchen table. Alone, again. My apartment needs a serious cleaning, but I couldn’t really face it tonight – the emptiness was palpable, creepy even. I usually like living alone, especially here in my small place, but between the gray winter chill that has seeped into me from outside and the general uncertainty of my current life plan, it’s a less-than-ideal situation. Craigslist, here I come.
I’m responding to the solitude by blasting Mariah Carey’s Christmas album. All I want for Christmas is you, okay?
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