I just gave them a reason to fire me...

So I definitely just made the biggest mistake I've made in my time here...

I was supposed to send up a fax on behalf of the client to a 12,000 member industry. Working with a new vendor, I set it up, programmed it to go out at 1pm, uploaded the file to be sent...

At 1:30, I start getting phone calls from angry industry members. Instead of the document I was supposed to send, somehow I uploaded the document that had my login info for my account with the vendor.

7700 people got the wrong fax before I could cancel it. Over 300 of them called to complain so far...

I don't think this is going to end well for me. Ugh, I don't make stupid mistakes like that...

"Word" Up

Yesterday, the word "phantasmagorical" was used in a conversation with a friend.

I was told my friend "lusted after" that word. While I'm not sure that I've ever "lusted" after a word myself, I definitely appreciate the sentiment.

What is it about words that moves us so easily? As vivid, exciting, or erotic as a picture can be, it is the written or spoken phrase that drives us crazy... the opportunity to use our imagination allows for free travel and fantasy.

While reading the blog board today, several people discussed the dangers of online dating. People have the ability to misrepresent themselves online, because you can get idea an idea of how people are based on their emails and profiles. Yes, their pictures may be misleading, but I would argue that the words they send are the most accurate reflection you'll get. Why base your assumptions on a photo? No one will ever know me based on a picture on a beach, or doing a kegstand, or standing with a celebrity; they'll find out who I am by discovering that I'm melodramatic, overuse the ellipsis, and that I twist nearly everything into a double entendre. Isn't that far more useful?

It's why I read all of the other blogs out there... I don't have to know the authors, to know who they are. And I love that.

Adventures in Overstarched Tuxedos

So this weekend was the long-awaited jaunt to western PA for F's wedding. I wish I could entertain you with various stories highlighting the entire trip, but since you know none of the participants (including me), I'll just share a few key anecdotes:

1) The post-rehearsal dinner drive to the sketchiest bar I've ever been to in my life in Bentleyville, PA. I'm pretty sure I have more teeth than any 3 patrons put together...

2) My incessant cursing of whoever was foolish enough to invent the cravat style necktie, and how mine seemed to be one inch to short stay properly tucked in my vest, not to mention how hard and uncomfortable my rental tux was, causing major razor burn (see post title)...

3) Me turning to my best friend mid-ceremony, just before the eucharist, and saying "This is where I bring the whole service to a screeching halt." I was considering putting a yarmulke on right when the priest came over. Decorum prevaled though...

4) The bridal party's limo ride from ceremony to reception. 4 rum & cokes before the reception even starts, makes for a drunk groomsman...

5) The chapel choir came to the reception, specifically to welcome my boy F to the wonders of Steeler Nation. They had written a song glorifying the Super Bowl champs just for him. Naturally, I had to lead all DC residents in a rousing chorus of "Hail to the Redskins." No one messes with my team...

All in all, a good, although very drunk weekend... my boy was appreciative of my assistance (when sober), and although the drive sucked, no highway incidents of note. I'm actually sad to see it be over. Anyone want to invite me to another wedding? I look really good in a tux! ;)

Penguin Suit

So I went to pick up the tuxedo for F's wedding last night. Good thing I made sure to try everything on, because both the shirt sleeves and the pants legs were about one inch too short. Can't be looking silly at my friend's wedding... after all, its going to be embarrassing enough when I try and see if they'll let me eat the communion wafer.

Apparently Jews can't do that...

But it was somewhat humbling for me to realize that I knew very little about the process of wearing a tuxedo. Odd, because I've owned my own for the past 10 years, but for some reason, I didn't realize that it was okay for the shirt sleeves to be so tight (cufflinks solve that), or that I still have no idea how to tie that goofy cravatte we have to wear.

Whatever... I'm told that I clean up well, and I'll do my best not to create a major fiasco this weekend. However, if the grappa starts flowing, all bets are off.

Dancing Queen

Been a while since I was here... although I've been happily reading everyone else's blogs, just haven't felt compelled to share anything of my own.

The last week or so was mostly about the Legg Mason, which while an entertaining (and hot) way to spend a week, does not give good blog. So therefore my silence.

Saturday night however, I went out with some friends, including one who had just returned from the Middle East (undisclosed location). He wanted to go out on the town, so out we went. Started the evening at Cafe Citron...

Several beers and a couple of shots later, I was definitely feeling the bass line of the combination salsa/reggae/hiphop being played. I was not feeling the random guy trying to play bongos along to the music. Despite telling my friends at least 1o times that I was going to go one up him, I did not. I do think I need a bongo for a gift soon though.

At any rate, 3 of us ended up leaving Citron to go to Rumors. I guess Returning Friend thought there would be more cute girls there. Once we got to Rumor's we watched the dance floor for a bit, but I couldn't help myself. I started dancing...

Now, by no means do I consider myself a good dancer. I've been complimented by girls before who seemed surprised that I have rythym, and in college I did hit up a club or three, but its probably not something you'd jump to as a conclusion when you meet me. Nonetheless, there's just something about good music, whether its live on stage, or quality DJing, that makes me have to move to the beat.

When I dance, obviously its nicer to have a partner, but I really don't require one. In fact, after about 45 minutes, I got a text from my two friends, informing me that they were leaving. I responded "I am good."

And I was... I had no partner to dance with, no cute girls to flirt with. It just felt good to dance, no matter how stupid I may have looked or whatever. I don't know why I don't try and do that more often...

Screw appearances, do what feels good.