Tonight (Saturday night) I went out to Brooklyn for a party at Chris’s apartment.
Before I left, I checked the Evite so I could write down the address.
I took the PATH into Manhattan and then the F into Brooklyn. I got off and found the address. Door to door, it had taken me about an hour.
I rang the buzzer.
No answer.
I rang the buzzer again.
Still no answer.
I began to suspect something and hoped it wasn’t true.
Then an apartment door inside the building opened. A female came to the front door and looked at me through the glass, puzzled. Then she opened the door.
It turned out Chris wasn’t there.
Because the party is next Saturday night.
D’oh.
At least I know what my plans are next weekend.
holy shit!
you’re back! you’re back! you’re back!
:)
yay!
*does the happy chicken dance*
you’re sitting there reading this thinking now who in the hell are you?
i used to read you all the time, till you decided to stop writing. and i remember coming in to read the archives once in a while, reminiscing, and i click on the thing today, and there are new posts!
damn.
wow.
weee!
:)
I’ve done it myself. This is why it’s good to always bring a bottle of wine to parties. You can drink it yourself on the doorstep if it turns out you had the wrong day.
Aha! That was you! My roommate said someone came by but she didn’t catch a name.
Don’t sweat it, babycake. We all do that sometimes. Hope you’re coming back next week, though. Were you wearing a toga?
So there was this guy at my old job, and he was straight and very aggressive–nice to me, certainly not homophobic, although perhaps a little chauvinistic–and he was constantly in competition with everyone at our office to succeed. This both drove me crazy with anger AND tapped into every insecurity I possessed.
I’d set up a meeting with a prospective client at the client’s office, and this coworker was going to attend with me. I was the Man in Charge, and so I was intently focused on showing my coworker just how damned *masculine* and authoritative I could be. And we got there and were shown into a conference room, and about ten minutes later the client came in all confused, and said, “I thought we’d made plans to meet tomorrow.” And of course he was right.
The worst part was that my coworker was very nice to me about it all the way back to our offices, which just proved to me that he felt really, really sorry for me, and that I clearly wasn’t any sort of competition to him at all.
Oh, AND the gossip all around the office was that he had a big dick. Naturally.