Life as a peon

Life as a peon isn't always bad.

I began formulating an entry about my day at work, but then realized that it was boring. I don't want to think about it, why would someone else want to read about it? It was going to be about office politics and how I'm using my low status to the best of my abilities.

In other news, the bruise on my knee doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did on Saturday night after slipping on ice on my way home from a bar. My friends thought it was the drunkenness that landed me on my ass, but surely it was the ice. I swear! I really don't remember falling - the act of falling - not the events surrounding it. You know how when you slip on ice it happens so fast you only remember the surprise of being on the ground? That's how I feel. It wasn't a black-out moment. I'm so in denial.

We had a fun night - Ann, her brother -Andy, and April. I'm the only "D" that they allow in the group. After dinner, we went to Jo Cat's on Brady Street. I had wanted to get a beer at every bar along the way home, but we ended up staying at Jo Cat's. It was our first time, except for April. The bar filled up after we arrived; we are such trend-setters. We danced on their little dance floor - sometimes as the only dancers. At one point in the night, I mentioned that sometime I'd like to get in a bar fight. Just as I finished my sentence, some guy came up to Ann. I forget what he said but he poked her in the stomach a la the Pillsbury Dough Boy. (Note: Ann is a small girl, who in no way resembles the PDB.) Despite where you may think this story is going, I did not punch the guy and get into my first bar fight as I had just stated I wished to do. We all stared in shock and the guy walked away. I don't even think we talked about it. We just continued on in our conversation.