Friday was the Workplace holiday party. We decided to liven things up a little with a betting pool: Who would make the biggest ass of themselves? A list of the 25-30 people we know best was made and odds were assigned. A 20:1 coworker was fairly unlikely to embarrass themselves whereas a 2:1 was almost a sure bet. Amidst a sea of 2:1s I was a assigned a respectable 4:1 which only proves these people don't know me very well. At the party, which was at ida mae from 6 to 11, we chose 2 people and then another at the midway point.
No one ended up winning anything because the breakaway star of the party was one of the new guys and none of them were in the pool since they were unknown quantities. So except for New Guy getting thrown out and another incident involving a friend of mine and a coworker who I now want to kick until he's dead, it was kind of a great party. K-dub, mysterioso, American Idol and I had made a pact to make sure none of us got out of control ("One water to every two drinks, people. Eat something. The code word is Singapore!") and it worked. Lookit that, almost 32 years old and I finally learn to behave. We made the DJ play OutKast and he threw in the Milkshake Song for good measure. I got to know the Enablement Krew better and they all rock like mini hurricanes ("Dude, the French get ALL the bitches!") and yeah, it was in actuality probably a big ole gooberfest but it's rare to have so many fun coworkers. Except that one dude who I seriously want to beat with a shovel.
Oh oh the best part though was my ride home. I tried and failed to get a cab - are there really less cabs lately or does it just seem that way? - and finally a car service guy pulled up and in my desperation I'm like look, I need to go to Brooklyn and I only have $22, yes or no? And off we went. I'm really popular with people who drive some sort of vehicle for a living be it subway, bus or car and Sonny was no different. He asked me if I were Muslim (must be my big, round, freckled, typical Muslim face) and if I had a boyfriend and where am I from... I usually lie about everything, including my name, in these situations, just in case, but Sonny told me I seemed like such a nice, decent person I didn't want to disappoint him.
When we were approaching my stop off the BQE, he told me he wanted to start a friendship with me and could he give me his number. Since it drives me crazyinsane when people give or ask for numbers with no intention of ever calling I really didn't want to do the same thing, the principle and all, but I didn't want to cause any kind of scene with the guy who now knew where I live, so I said sure. I took his number and handed him my $22 and he wouldn't take my money. He said it was because I was nice and he wanted to start a friendship with me and I argued that he'd done his job and deserved the money but he just wouldn't take it.
So I got out and headed into my building and I was thinking, damn, this must be what it's like for pretty girls every day! I don't mean to put myself down, I'm not so hideous that children put out their own eyes rather than look at me. But I'm talking about that kind of pretty that makes people stop and stare, or give you things for free. Honestly, even just a tiny taste of it made me think how along with the giggly "I got something free!" there's a sort of guilt. I felt bad, since it wasn't an equal trade in the slightest. I'm not ever going to call. Huh. That's one to grow on.