Anyway, all that just to say that I was actually (still) baked for the first time in months that morning, so I was quite glad my coworkers didn't seem horribly interested in having a conversation with me. I kept myself busy, and munched at a what I hope was a mellow enough pace that I did not seem oddly hungry.

Only worked half a day anyway, because the new head guy we have down came and said let's go to lunch -- as I'd been snacking all morning, not hungry in the slightest, but I figure sitting and pretending to listen to coworkers conversations while eating would be easier than continuing to try and do things in a nonconspicuous manner while eating.

This became a half-day because the very same new lead guy decided at lunch that we should all call it an early day and go out for cocktails after. Well, as it happens it had been one month exactly after the day I'd decided I'd not touch booze for a month. So what the hell.

Lost horribly at several games of darts. Because I was STILL (believe it or not) quite "up" and now adding drinking on a low tolerance to that, I apparently seemed quite reserved through my losing streak -- I think new lead guy thinks I was sad because I was losing, whereas I was actually just happy to ever hit the board at all. I suck at things like darts, so as a result I've never really played darts ... which, in perfect circular fashion, has helped to remain quite sucky it. Lead guy keeps trying to coach me, because I'm throwing them like they're steel dates, which is the kind I remember having thrown as a kid.

I just wanted to turn to him and say, "Dude ... I'm baked out of my head. Please. I don't have anywhere near the amount of focus of concentration or awareness of sensation presently to have any idea how hard I'm throwing a small plastic dart. Really, it's rather impressive that I'm maintaining my balance all the time without making it perfectly obvious that this is a concern. So please, don't add complication to my existence by making me have to pretend I'm listening to your advice. Who cares? Geez."

So, long story short, lead guy is eventually gone, and I end up spending most of the night having pitchers with the guy at work I get along with most, and his female friend who works for our company but in a different building. Never met her before, she seemed cool enough.

In the end, I ended up unintentionally ditching them, because I stopped by home when we were switching venues, and promptly stretched out on my bed and passed out. Next I was aware, it was about an hour after bar close. Ah well, I'll tell the truth as to what happened to me, and they can respond as they wish. Somehow, I don't think my coworker really minded. It's pretty obvious he has a thing for his friend, who apparently has some buff sex-god of a boyfriend who lives about an hour away -- perfect for her, because she gets regular sex and the company of someone she enjoys, without having to maintain that 7 days a week. She gets to have an outside life -- wich consists, in part, of hanging out with her two guy friends, both of whom want her, and feeling rather good about herself as part of the process.

And as it happens, I'm just about -- well, a million times hotter than my coworker or the other guy (his roomate, who I've never actually met) the two of them hang with all the time. How can I say that I'm hotter than a guy I haven't met? Well, for one, I'm an incredibly attractive and sexy guy in general, enough so that any average sort of guy would be way way behind me ... that is, without intention to boast, I am aware 90% or more of the people that I meet would concede that I am an unusally attractive person. One of the genetically lucky, if you will.

And besides that, I've heard lurid description of this guy, and even if he were really goodlooking, it's obvious from all the needs of his friends to excuse or defend being his friends that he's hella far from what might be called sexy in personality. (How's that for a sentence?)

Anyway, I won't try and claim that I honestly am just sex on wheels or anything ... I am sure that I'm good, but I wouldn't try to claim I know I'm amazing. But I do think I tend to appear that way, which is really kind of cool.

So what's the moral of my story? After quite some time clean and sober, I'm suddenly neither again. Hell, I've slept half of this day, and spent the rest being increasingly baked while putzing around on my computer. Which is to say, obviously, that I'm quite up at just this moment. Somehow, I'd rather imagine that might be somewhat apparent to the discerning reader.

The sad part is, if we refer back to the previous entry: I have a crapload of work to do today. Schoolwork, that is. Actually, I should have spent my entire weekend doing nothing but catching up on the 3 weeks or so of work and reading I have to have done by next week. Instead, having already wasted more than a day ... I am gonna take a shower, and probably go see "The Order". That seems like it might be a cool movie.

Or maybe I'll hit the gym, because I really would like to and won't get a chance again if I don't this weekend. Either the gym or movie will have to wait until tomorrow ... we will sincerely hope that after wasting all this much time, I should return home after whatever recreation I choose to speed-study hardcore.