At my company holiday party last night, on top of delicately nibbling coconut shrimp and imbibing bad Chardonnay (why does everyone in California insist on drinking Chardonnay? Ugh. They were also serving bad Merlot. Californians and Merlot! What is everyone thinking?), I also won a prize in the gift raffle. I'm sure my proximity to the big tree decorated with little penguins had something to do with it.
Oh, the thrill of hearing my ticket number called. (From the shrieks and hollers when people's numbers were called, and the boos and hisses from everyone else, you'd think they were giving away glamorous resort vacations! They did give away a PSP, whatever that is. Everyone else thought it was pretty cool.)
And what did I win? Two nights at a hotel. Pretty sweet, you may be thinking. I see a romantic weekend getaway in your future.
But...the hotel is the Holiday Inn.
In Burbank.
When I told this to my coworker this morning, he burst out laughing. He thought I was telling a joke.
In other news, I have no credible explanation for my long, long, long-ass absence from my own blog. Something about moving and packing and stressing about leaving my huge apartment for a tiny garret, albeit in a better neighborhood. It's pretty cute, as garrets go. And it's all in service of my longterm goal, which is to buy a house next year. My girlfriend has whispered the word "condo" to me a couple of times, but so far I have shuddered at the very thought. She says it could be the first step toward being a real-estate mogul. Does that mean I could quit my job?
Thursday, December 14, 2006
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