It's no way to make a livin'

Oh the things I have seen... I haven't posted a blog as I have been recovering from the massive shock my system recieived from being bent over and screwed up the jaxie by The Company. This was obviously followed by an extended bout of binge drinking (by extended I mean from Thursday to Sunday) and subsequent frenzied CV sending.

Let me break it down for you.

On Wednesday The Company decided that it was the right time of year for a bit of ass raping and called us in to talk salary. Basically we've been fighting a losing battle for the past six months regarding a promise they made us and now refuse to make good on. So, to cut a long and depressing story short, they tried to finagle us out of even more money and effectively bring our earnings down to roughly that of a street urchin. Snot and trane ensued and they backed off a tad - only to tell us how ungracious we were. Clearly they were expecting us to grovel Igor style and lisp out, "yeth mathter, thank you mathter".

Luckily we had a company function that night so my two very pissed off colleagues and I decided to drink our salary's worth in company-sponsored liquor. We soon realised that this was only equal to two glasses of wine and decided to revert back to the old favourite of drinking our body weight...Cue the shots of Sambuca. After imbibing a satisfactory amount of covert shooters we proceeded to bitch and complain at the tops of our voices about how badly we'd been bent over by The Company (don't worry, everyone left after the MD closed the bar due to our excessive disply of alcoholism). We carried on drinking, even though they had the cheek to make us pay and ended the evening with a gleeful bout of traffic cone abduction. I know, how old AM I?

So moving on to Friday night...I skipped work as an act of protest (who am I kidding, I'm a total coward - it was just dumb luck that the directors were all away on a spiffy spa weekend cos they can) and just arbed around doing as little as possible. Then met up with the same two colleagues who inspired the drunken excess the night before and got down to some serious drinking at My Grill My Bar. Oh dear. Oh dearie dearie me. Thus began an evening of cheek pinching (of both the ass and face variety) to rival all that has come before. You see, when I'm drunk I get a bit touchy feely and woe betide any man who may not aprove of my hands on approach as he will only incur my drunken wrath (this is usually characterised by giggling and trying to put on puppy dog eyes but only managing to look loose). We voted that My Grill My Bar had become a total dogshow when Graeme Smith overheard us talking and made some unsuspecting comment and C turned around and called him a poes.

We high tailed it to Manhattan and cut up a rug on the dance floor (while still managing to pinch some seriously hot asses) and made a few enemies through our irreverant behaviour:
Me: "she's a Maneater lalalalala"
C: this guy next to me looks like Wentworth Miller...
Me: I know, I just grabbed his ass
C: Is that why he's moving away?

If you were one of these people, I apologise profusely - I really am usually such a nice girl...

So this week is dedicated to job hunting and lying low in case of sudden dismissal...like a midget at a urinal, I'm going to have to keep on my toes.