I wrote this earlier today at work and it wouldn't post, so here it is now...
Well, it has been a few days since I last wrote and needless to say, much has happened. Saturday night was my company Christmas party, which was a night of fun, food, dancing...and an open bar. This was the first mistake. Not for me, mind you, but for plenty of others who don't know when to stop. The second mistake was having different bartenders and not keeping track of how many drinks a person had, thus resulting in me seeing many co-workers and their spouses in a totally different light. As soon as one particularly reserved co-worker came sloshing up to me and was beyond loud, I knew I was in for a fun night! Actually, it was a lot of fun--the food was great, I have a lot of awesome co-workers with whom I love to visit, and I love me some good music and dancing, so dance I did! A co-worker took some pictures of me and another co-worker tearing up the dance floor to a disco song, which I'll post here later.
I danced for hours and dragged others on to the floor with me, resulting in even more fun. Sure, I dance like a white kid from Utah, but as I really don't care how foolish I look, I just had fun and enjoyed the time. I was sweating like a stuck pig (granted, pigs don't sweat; but, if they did and they were stuck, this would be comparable to how I looked after the hours of dancing). The party continued on well into the night as we moved from the hotel ballroom to a club there in downtown Raleigh. I had been to this club before and had enjoyed it, but this time it wasn't nearly as much fun. I was D.D., as usual, so I couldn't just take off once I got bored either. The more interesting parts of the evening were when a co-worker's date started another co-worker's hair on fire while lighting his cigarette; another was when a guy literally collapsed next to me. He hit his head on the concrete floor and was completely out. I immediately thought, "Alcohol poisoning!!" So, I bent over and was checking for a pulse when he came to. It was a huge relief. I picked him up off the floor and draped him over his drunk girlfriend's back so she could drag him out of the building.
I had agreed to dog-sit for another co-worker, so by the time I took home one co-worker and her significant other, it was really late and I still had to take Bailey out to do his thing. Bailey is a 125-lb. St. Bernard, pitbull, yellow lab mix. He's huge. He's such a big baby too...and sooooo sweet. I just love my Mr. Bailey--except for when his nails haven't been clipped and he jumps up on me. He almost pierced my nipple once by doing this. Anyway, I drove to Cary and took Bailey out in the freezing cold and we made a quick trip around the lake. I got home and took out Matza and Peanut, finally having my head hit my pillow at 4:45 a.m. I was exhausted. However...
A friend of a friend of a friend, Crystal, has a dog, a male Bichon Frise, that she is giving away as she can't keep him in her new residence. I had looked into adopting him about a month ago, but it sounded like someone else had taken him. So, it was a bit of a surprise when I got a call right as I was heading out to the company party, asking if I'd consider taking him. Well, I didn't have the time to run to Durham to pick him up before the party and I didn't want to get him and immediately abandon him in my apartment, so I arranged to get him the next morning--not realizing I'd be out so late. When I called to arrange for a later meeting time, I seriously sounded like I myself was drunk. It was awful. I was sure Crystal wouldn't want me to come near her dog at that point. As a small example of how the conversation went, this was the opening sequence:
Me: "Hello?"
Crystal: "Hi Kade, it's Crystal."
Me (Half mumbling): "Hi Crystal, it's Kade. Oh wait. You knew that. You said 'Hi Kade'. Oops."
Anyway, despite my drunken-sounding state, she still agreed to let me take "Roo" for a few days to see if he was compatible with Matza, etc. I wasn't so sure about him when he basically fought me away from him when I picked him up to go with me. Crystal had to sit with him in my car to get him to calm down enough for us to leave. Anyway, I had Matza, Peanut, and Roo (named after the Winnie the Pooh "Roo", as he hops a lot when he walks) on Sunday afternoon and evening, which was a bit of a nightmare. You see--Matza is back in heat (I thought I had more time in which to get her fixed) and Roo is not fixed. Keeping them apart and then walking all three of them was a bit of an overload. It made me realize I should definitely not adopt Roo. I can not handle two dogs. However...
My friend, Adrian, decided that he wanted to try out Roo and see if Roo would be good for him to adopt. He renamed him "Rolfe", while I called him "Rolfie", and Rolfie's personality really started to come out more yesterday. He is the sweetest dog and beyond calm. I'm used to Matza (who could never be described as being calm), so this was quite the change. Well, long, long story shorter, Adrian decided today to adopt Rolfe, whom I re-named again last night (this time for good). His new name is Sir Toby Hopsalot Kimber-Powell. As Adrian says I am part owner, I thought the hyphenated last name was best. :) We call him "Toby" for short and he really responds to it quite well. Other than waking at 4:30 this morning, as he wanted to go outside, Toby has been quite good and it'll be nice to have him around to perhaps help calm Matza and give Peanut more energy (she's getting a bit old). He's one year old and is about 15-17 lbs., which is unusually big for a Bichon. He is basically Matza on steroids.
I keep them in different houses during the day--one at my house, one at Adrian's--so that we don't have mini-Matza's running around. However, they all get along very well and even Peanut (who has an especially hard time with other dogs) is okay with him for the most part. He didn't want to leave me this morning to go to Adrian's (admittedly, he does like me more than Adrian, but I think that will change the more he's around Adrian) and I can't wait to see the little furry trio tonight.
This morning, I ended up back at the dentist to have impressions done for Invisalign braces. It wasn't too bad--I read a smutty gossip magazine while the hygienist did her thing--other than that I found out it'll be an additional $1047 per tooth for veneers that I'll need once I have all the extra space between my front teeth. It sucks, but I don't want to look like a hillbilly. I reckon I'll be in this about $10,000 by the time is all said and done, but I'll have one heck of a smile. :) (And my deep bite will finally be corrected, thus saving my jaw and teeth from more damage.)
Anyway, now that I've written a novel, I must get back to work. My thought is that life would be so much easier if I were independently wealthy and didn't need to work. I could spend my days accomplishing errands, doing charity work, socializing, and traveling the world--not to mention playing with dogs and laughing at drunks. In the meantime, I'll just work on a proposal instead.
Hasta!
me
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