election

I haven't been that drunk in a long time. And I didn't WANT to get drunk. It was the last thing I wanted, actually. Talk about potential for making some very bad early impressions on co-workers.

Fortunately, kind of ironically, the only impression they got was that I'm a big wimp when it comes to alcohol. Phew. What they failed to notice was that I was, in fact, sloshed. Although I bet that would have cemented their wimp analysis even further. Hmmm. At any rate, I managed to hide it well. Even though I could barely type and the room was spinning.

So... yes... work. Election night. Turned up at the late hour of 6pm. Spent the first hour, as usual, perusing the Internet. Joy. Eventually got some grunt work - tho not the letters page, sadly. Then, at about 9 or so we headed downstairs to the pub. It was me and the boys. Yup, I was the only girl there, my immediate supervisor deciding to be good and diligent and stay behind in case some sort of shit went down or something. The editor bought three rounds before heading back. That's THREE pints of lager, on an empty stomach. Bad. Very bad. I downed the first one rather quickly, but then again I always do. The second one took decidedly longer. I would have been happy to stop there. Two pints would have been just perfect. Plus, one of the guys was smoking a cigar and it was making me queasy. But no. Not only was a third pint delivered, but the guys were about to embark on their fourth! Shit. That's when the taunting began. What a bad influence! No wonder so many Scots are alcoholics. And I'm beginning to see where the whole whisky-toting hardened journalist stereotype comes from. Lordy.

Luckily, duty eventually kicked in - and a well-timed phone call informing us pizza had arrived upstairs - and we returned to the office to buckle down. Yeah right. I wolfed down so much pizza... embarassing. I also sneaked about a gallon of water.

The results began to trickle in around midnight, and we were all braced for the excitement. But really, it was a one-man job. We only needed one person to cut and paste the results from the agency site on to a page and put it into style. Meanwhile the rest of us peered over his shoulder and made helpful observations. Hmmm. So I was pretty much useless, in other words. I dunno why I had to be there, except maybe in solidarity or something. I think I proofread two pages, edited two briefs. That was it. In the span of about six hours.

I didn't get home until about 3am. And when I got there, Richard was wide awake, riveted to the TV and Internet, simultaneously, watching the results. Dork! I'd like to think he was waiting up for me, but I won't delude myself. Especially since he continued to stay up until way after 4am, and only eventually came to bed when my whining hit ear splitting level. If I never see another Scottish political commentator in my life, I will be overjoyed. God they were annoying.

Richard's gone home for the weekend, and I'm feeling a bit lost without him. How pathetic is that!? Very, I admit. Very indeed. I miss him already, and he only left an hour ago. Saddo. It's not like it's because I'm used to having him around 24/7. On the contrary, we hardly see each other, what with our crazy clashing schedules. And I usually enjoy my alone time during the days. It's just the idea of having to find things to fill entire days...and nights. Well, one day, as I'm back to work on Sunday. Hmmm.

I should call my mother. It's been awhile. And it's Mother's Day, isn't it?

I can't wait until I get paid. Another week before that happens though. Argh!