Friday, November 17, 2006

Craft Night! (Failure!)

Oh, pain.

I am waiting for delivery Vietnamese food that I would like to be eating RIGHT NOW, thank you. I am so very hungry. But instead of finding the immediate gratification that follows a heaping container of Chinese mushrooms, I will have to settle for the usual half an hour to forty-five minutes of torture, because I didn't bother to call earlier.

It's my fault, really.

I blame extreme, extreme laziness, among other things. I just can't imagine cooking food tonight. I'm exhausted. I can barely type coherently. It's a problem, because tonight is Craft Night, and DAMNIT I'm going to paint if it kills me. Perhaps if I arranged my rice and vegetables in a pleasing way, the "craft" part of my evening would be fulfilled? Then I could sleep? Unlikely, but I get points for creativity (and extreme, extreme laziness).

But in other news.... I have a riddle. Okay, it's not a riddle so much as a situation. Not so much a situation as a bathroom oddity, actually. I'll elaborate.

I work in an office in the downtown core of the city. The office is in a highrise. We're on one of the top floors. We share the floor with only one other group - a big-time consulting firm. Generally speaking, the people in my office are scruffy, young-ish government workers and media junkies. We drink beer and brush our hair when it suits us.

But across the hall.... these consulting types are perplexing us. They are thin, slathered in makeup, tanned (always!), well-dressed, properly groomed, monkey-suited, and potentially very bitchy. We have yet to test the limits of that last one, but I can spot an overly-ambitious consultant crazy three elevators over. These people scare me.

At any rate, here's the oddity. They all brush their teeth about three times per shift. Men AND women, all together now, brushing. In between brushings, they talk about their clients, or projects, or promotions. Not chill things like weekend plans or offensive jokes, but office crap, all the time. With toothpaste.

Now, tell me. What the fuck. I am too scared to actually speak to one of them, otherwise I would have this figured out by now.


The sad truth, two hours later: The food arrived, I ate it, watched television and LOOKED at pictures of crafts. I fail.

Perhaps a more exciting post will come out of tomorrow's used clothing store extravaganza. Until then!

No comments: