So I spent yesterday making one hour of work fill an eight hour day, which was pretty entirely easy, what with the fact that I took a two hour lunch and all.

Boy, I sound slackerish, ain't? But the reason I made one hour of work fill an eight hour day was because there only was one hour of work to do, and everybody took a two hour lunch!

It being Bat Girl's last day, The Company That Must Not Be Named was kind enough to give us carte blanche on going out and stuffing our faces at a restaurant that we were entirely underdressed for. And when expensive food is going free, one is wont to eat like a Christmas goose!

Everyone had an appetizer or a salad but for me, and when everyone exclaimed at my self-control, I admitted that it was because I had scarfed down half a loaf of the lovely bread before anyone had gotten their drink orders yet, which was more than enough, appetizer-wise.

I had some curly pasta in a sausage sauce, after scanning the menu for something as downmarket as spaghetti bolognaise, and I had a feeling that the waiter would have recoiled in horror had I asked for such a thing. Fortunately, the curly pasta in the sausage sauce was absolutely fab, and the portion was huge enough (especially considering my bread-laden condition) for me to take half of it home. Of course I forgot it on the table, but someone grabbed it for me, so it was okay.

Then, for dessert, they came out with desserts with candles on them for Iris (whose birthday was the 25th) and me, and we were completely surprised, which thrilled everyone no end because Bat Girl wasn't the tiniest bit surprised! Honestly, I think it's the obligation of the surpris-ee to damn well act surprised whether they actually are surprised or not!

Anyway, we all drank this really great, really sweet sparkling dessert wine (that I fell so in love with that I asked for the name and then promptly forgot--it began with an "M", I remember that much.) and ate our tiramisu (I never had it before and I wonder why I have been wasting my life for lo these many years not having tiramisu!) and most people had cappuccino, then the company paid and we all staggered back to work and fell into food-related comas for the rest of the day.

And I didn't feel at all guilty lying around holding my bloated belly and having conversations about food instead of working, since The Raccoon was behaving in an identical fashion!

I had barely recovered from this orgy of food when I had to go to another surprise party! Richard Callahan turned 40, so I of course had to pop round to commiserate and stuff.

The party took place at this place called The Gold Rush on 10th Ave. and 38th St., and if you know 10th Ave. near the tunnel, it is a vast wasteland of giant grey parking structures, the last place you would expect to find a bar/restaurant with a western theme.

I had, in fact, driven past it several times when the van, due to traffic, was taking the long way around to the tunnel, and I had often wondered what the hell that place with the hitching posts and the wagon wheels was. Well, last night I found out!

It really was a swell place. We were up on the roof, which I had been worrying about, since up to that very afternoon the radio was predicting rain that night from Hurricane Bonnie, but instead all we had was a lovely breeze and no humidity for the first time in a week. Thanks Hurricane Bonnie!

It was a fun party, the funnest part being that Bart was there, whom I have not seen in a year or so, since he and Sharon broke up. So the same thing happened as the first few people arrived--they would go "O my God, Bart!!" and hug him, then "O, look at how big the baby has gotten!", then "O yeah, happy birthday Richard! You don't look a day over 39 1/2!"

Okay, that last line was only me.

And I smoked around ten cigarettes and had the first asthma attack since I quit, so I think I won't do that again anytime soon.

My spellcheck does not know the work "bolognaise" and suggested "oblongatae" in its stead. This from a spellcheck that, if you consistently misspell "exercise" as "excersize" flat out refuses to suggest "exercise" as a viable option, preferring instead to harp on "excursive" and "extorsive".

"Oblongatae" indeed!

One year ago today:
Elvis was sitting on the cat tree the other morning.

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Last Updated Sat 29 August 14:37:09 1998