Party 'til the sun comes up

You might remember from my last post that I was supposed to go out with Henry the landscaper last night.  Well, it didn't happen.  I slept through what was supposed to be our second date.  Let me explain why...

On Tuesday night (which was technically Wednesday morning) I went to a work function that began at midnight and went to about 5am.  It's not like me to go out drinking on a weeknight, but my company was sponsoring the event, and there was an open bar, so how could I pass it up?  I also had the added incentive of maybe meeting a guy -- it was the after party to an IT conference, so the ratio of men to women was about 6 to 1.  I liked the odds.

I wrestled myself into some spanx, troweled on some makeup, and put on the sexiest heels I could manage to walk in.  I think I looked pretty good, so I'm sure I had a definite strut when I got out of the cab and walked toward the line-up.  As soon as I got my VIP wristband on and got in the door, I knew instantly that my hair and makeup didn't stand a chance.  The old hall, chosen no doubt because it had a stage for the live band, had NO AIR CONDITIONING.  It started out hot, but quickly turned into a sauna as people arrived and began dancing.  (I went from looking sexy to looking like a half-melted wax figure of RuPaul in less than 15 seconds.)  Some guys were even down to undershirts, once they figured out that they had sweat stains to their waist.

"Well this shirt's ruined.  Better just take it off and keep dancing.  Shots!  Shots!"

Being only about six months into my job, I've never had the opportunity to party with my coworkers before.  This was the first time I got to see everyone feeling relaxed and tipsy, and it was surprising the personalities that came out.  The cool guy in the office kept giving everyone the thumbs up all night, the quiet Italian guy who claimed to be too shy to network started drinking rum and cokes two at a time, and one of the programmers got completely tanked and took it upon himself to be my wing man -- basically he just ran around the room asking guys if they were single, and if he found one, he then found me and dragged over to them, asking them, "Have you met Kathy?"  (That's not my name.)

Anyway, my drink that night was vodka and cranberry juice.  I don't remember how many I had, but I know for sure I was drunk because suddenly those heels felt sky high.  I also know I was drunk because I started getting really flirty.  I wish I could tell you I found a cute IT nerd, but that didn't happen.  Instead I ended up flirting with a coworker, who just happened to be standing to my left when the booze kicked in.  Poor Adam -- he just turned 23.  (I'm such a cougar!)

Last call was around 4am and everyone started drifting outside in search of food.  (Can you believe there weren't even any appetizers at the party?  Shameful.)  It soon became obvious that nothing was open, so around 4:30 our little party started filing into cabs.  Earlier at work I'd offered my couch to Adam, since he lives out of town.  When we got to my place I had the genius idea to get out all of my musical instruments.  He played the guitar, and I was on piano.  Then for laughs, I got out my trumpet.  (I'm sure my neighbours loved it.) 

It didn't take long for us to figure out that we had to be at work in less than an hour.  Sleeping seemed pointless, and showers seemed necessary.  We stunk of booze.  Apparently the showers didn't quite kill the smell, because when we got to work -- the only party-goers to make it in on time, I might add -- Debbie nearly passed out from the fumes.  Mr. Cool strolled in an hour after, not looking so hot, but once he threw up he felt a million times better.  (I gave him a thumbs up.)  What surprised me most was that one of the guys, who had been drinking straight whiskey by the cupful, was completely and entirely sober the next day.  He's from Nova Scotia, and claims Ontarians just don't know how to drink properly.  It sure seems that way!

Around 11am I started to feel really hungover, so Debbie was kind enough to set a bucket next to me.  I'm happy to report that it went unused -- a personal victory since I'm a bit of a barfer at the best of times.  I hung in until 3pm when Debbie sent me home.  I must have been awake at that point for about 30 hours.  That's why I slept through my date with Henry.  I didn't stand him up, as in he wasn't waiting somewhere for me.  He texted at 5:30 asking about what we should do, and I got the text at 9pm when I woke up from my nap.  I called him right away and apologized and he said he understood and we'd reschedule for early next week.  I hope he gets back in touch.  He's a nice guy.

You might be wondering if my shameless flirting with Adam made it awkward at work, so let me put your mind at ease.  My cougar behaviour didn't go unnoticed by Adam, but it wasn't scandalous either, and actually we became better friends after hanging out one-on-one.  So there was no awkwardness at work, and thank God for that -- we sit next to each other, close enough to link arms and still type on our own laptops.  Also, I might have started it, but I'm pretty sure he reciprocated, so the embarrassment, if there was going to be any, would be on both of us.  (And if I ever need his help with something, I need only remind him of the conversation he had with my cleavage.  It's good to know I've still got it at 29!)