If anyone ever tells you, �I�m not only saying this because I�m drunk,� or �I�m not only saying this because I�m (insert various causes of inebriation here),� they�re lying. Think about it. The disclaimer gives them away. Man, am I tired. Went out again last night, that�s two in a row, baby.

I started at Kitty�s, putting on my makeup, amused by a few very drunk fellas. I went outside, got in my car, intending to drive separately (it�s a control thing). As I turned the key in the ignition, a limo excursion arrived for our crew, and I had a change of heart . Man, that was a fun ride.

A few drinks downtown, a little boogie, ran into a lot of wonderful people I know, and got to hang with the kids from the Stanton Residence. Ooh la la. After the club, we went back to Kitty�s for a teency-weency bit, and then I headed home to kiss my pillow.

Big weekend ahead! Tonight, I�m going to a concert . I�ve seen the Girls twice in concert already, and though I only have 5 of their 10 or so albums committed to memory, I know I�m in for a great show. AND, I�m going with family, so I know I�m in for a great time overall.

Tomorrow night? Vibrantly Red, thanks to Mellie Mel. Bunny will be singing, Bluetech will be spinning, and everyone will be dressed in red. Me, I�m just going to have a few sips of wine and sport my red as a flush of the cheeks. Or maybe not.

Work is hectic, but I like busy. Yesterday I visited a convalescent home. That had to be the most depressing thing that�s happened all week. Nothing like witnessing human loneliness like that to make me appreciate the PEOPLE as much as I do. I had to wait for 30 minutes, wait for my contact to get out of a meeting. So all I could do was sit there, and watch, and think. Another interesting work thing, before I let you go for the weekend. This one, I believe, goes down as evidence of my intuitive and psychic nature.

Yesterday, I brought in a card for a co-worker. A thank you card. She�s a hard worker who is not recognized for her dedication here, someone whom people have difficulty interacting with because they don�t know how to read her dry nature. She�s always helped me out, shown me the ropes, made me look like less of a retard as I learn this new industry. So, I wanted to thank her. I dropped the card (pretty funny one, I got it at Babbette Swartz), filled with my handwritten sentiments, on her keyboard without a word, and walked away.

Later in the day, I learned that earlier in the morning, while I was contemplating old-age and loneliness with an audience of catatonics and grimacers in wheelchairs, this very woman was having an argument with another coworker. Misunderstandings, conflicts, and she ended up the bad guy and was given a talking-to. It was an hour after all this happened that I strolled in and delivered my card to her, ignorant of what she�d just been through. I hope it made her smile.

-Barbarella

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