2001-12-05 - 10:53 p.m.

Just got back from McDonald's.

So the Christmas party was OK, I guess. It's probably still raging. I wouldn't know.

Work was OK--very busy. I had to help fix some wacky computer problem that hasn't actually been fixed quite yet. I hope it is by tomorrow evening, or 27 very broke interviewers are going to be denied a fourth shift this week. Not good times.

I dressed up. Most people didn't. Felt kinda foolish, but whatever, eh? M. and the Big Boss both wore jeans.

We wrapped it up, and then we went to the party to meet the senior staff. The party was held at the historic Union Oyster House, and it was everything I imagined it to be. It was for rich people, and the place made me uncomfortable. There were servants (almost) bringing us our beers and cleaning up our messes. S. said it best, and I shall paraphrase--"I came from the side where I should be cleaning up the napkins and bringing the beers." Of course, he said it in way that was far more eloquent and of which only S. is capable.

Radish is on her way out. She has duggen her own grave. I still feel very bad for her. The more the hatred at the office burns, the more mine cools. I guess in a week or so I won't have to worry about her anymore, but knowing how things go at the Work, she'll be a vice president in 9 or 10 years.

She did an impression of me. Bad move. I told an amusing story about fishcakes a couple of days ago. She basically retold the story, but sounded nothing like me and didn't even retell the story well. Too bad. It would have been cool if she was dead on or even if made a good point about my character. What she did was just sad and also very evident of how stupid she is. (I don't use the word "stupid" often.)

Mocking has its place--behind the back of the person you're mocking. Poorly executed mocking has its place too--at home, with nobody around, until it has had a chance to ripen.

The Girlfriend drank a little too much. I'm introducing it here because that's how it was--it became a big deal later but started a long time ago.

Everything went pretty well--lots of joking and laughing. Cigarette breaks with the Girlfriend and J.K. and D.C., et al. I showed the Girlfriend lots of affection because I knew she was a little apprehensive about being at a Work party and seeing the old crew with whom she used to work.

Then, she started accusing me of bringing her for the sole reason of her being my "accessory." Didn't like it much.

The Yankee Swap was fun. I made my way up close so that I could watch everyone. The Big Boss picked second, and went right for my gift. That was kinda cool.

C. got a stupid clock and was the first to swap. He stole the Moonfaced Mormon's gift certificate to Crate and Barrel. It may have been the best moment of the night (and I paraphrase):

"Oh... I have so many clocks already at my house. It's very nice, but I think that it would look far better in the Moonfaced Mormon's office!"

Treeeeemendous!

I was one of the last to pick. I got a stupid Brookstone calendar pen. I traded it for C.'s Crate and Barrel gift certificate. It was a good moment for all--I think that everybody wanted to see a swap and I handled it well. It helped that it was C.

The Girlfriend was next. It didn't matter what she got (in fact, she had it for so little that I don't even remember what it was). She had a premeditated plan to take the Big Boss' wine (the very gift I brought--that didn't matter). She did, and she was pretty happy with that.

Soon after, the Yankee Swap was pretty much done. But not before the Big Boss' wacky rule--the person to your left got the gift you chose. The Girlfriend got my gift certificate, I got my stupid calendar pen back, and if I had just taken what I got and kept my mouth shut, I would have gotten C.'s gift certificate after all.

Afterwards, J.K. said it best:

"And now nobody gets what they want!"

Who cares...

Everybody seemed to be having a pretty friggin' good time, and that made me happy.

The Girlfriend wasn't happy. I don't know what it was. She was pretty friggin' drunk though.

After the four hour lease on the Union Oyster House was spent, we moved to the Green Dragon. It was fun to see the Big Boss going crazy.

By this time, the Girlfriend was very, very drunk and obviously needed to go home. This meant that I had to go home with her.

That kinda sucked for me. I was really looking forward to the drunken part of the evening, and those points all lined up in a straight direction.

I told everyone goodbye. I was one of the first to go. I'll ask for the stories later, but they won't be as good as if I had told them.

I love the Girlfriend and would not be able to respect myself if I had let her go home alone. She turned on me as if I was trying to make some sort of a point. She gave me a pretty friggin' hard time of it. I had to bribe her so that she would allow me to escort her home.

It wasn't very fun to hear her throw around the phrase "when I leave you." It also wasn't very fun when she pretended that she had never said those words, and more than once, too.

We both listened to headphones on the train ride home. I didn't want to be tempted--I thought it would be a good idea not to talk.

It wasn't very much fun.

When we finally got off the goddamn train, the stumbly Girlfriend wanted to go the new McDonald's in our neighborhood. I took her there. I really wanted to go home. I had been through enough. She made me leave my fucking Christmas party early, and then tried to frame it as if I had a choice. To add insult to it all, she had ridiculed me for making the wrong choice. I took care of her all the way home because I honestly had to, and then she gave me shit because I was taking care of her.

I don't mind missing the fun part of the Christmas party for her, and I certaintly don't mind taking care of her.

I do mind her telling me that she plans to leave me over and over again, as if leaving me is the premeditated second phase in her plans to lead a more comfortable life. ("Oh, you should try leaving your boyfriend! It's the thing to do!"). I do mind that she resents me leaving the Christmas party. And I fucking mind that she resents my taking care of her.

Either/Or.

I guided her home and then went back to the McDonald's to collect her lost sweater for the second time. I didn't mind that at all.

It was nice to be able to walk down Harvard Avenue as fast as I wanted to.

And then I came home.

She's sprawled out now, naked on the bed. I don't know how she got that way. Presumably, she threw up when I was reclaiming her sweater, and the rest just undid itself.

I hope I can just go to bed now. I hope that nothing else happens.