Yup. I'm at work. Again. So far, I've been at work each day of my vacation. It's really not a big deal unless I start thinking about it a lot. Let's move on to more interesting stuff before I get pissed off.
My shirt smells like purfume. Purfume that isn't mine. It's weird. I mean, it smells good, just foreign. I wonder what I was doing last time I wore this shirt. ( I don't wash something unless it's been worn a zillion times, has something on it or smells really bad. Sue me.)
Repo's friends were in town this weekend for a wedding. So I got to meet a bunch of them. They are a wild crew, let me tell ya. Friday night I didn't go to bed until 4am. We hung out with Repo's friend B and his girlfriend. They are cool. It turns out that B and Repo have this whole fashion competition going on. They both love to buy colored button-down shirts and matching ties. Most of the evening they kept describing potential wedding outfits to each other, trying to decide who had the coolest outfit in mind. They even had a debate about whether or not a lavender tie would match a pink shirt.
I swear, sometimes I think my boyfriend is gay.
The next day (yesterday), after working, I hung out at the pool with K for a while. Normally, I am pasty white because I don't want to look old before my time, but on an impulse, I laid out with her. I'm on vacation, goddammit, I thought. After an hour, I looked like a lobster. Not bad, but definitely pink. I don't think my stomach has seen the light of day in like 4 years. No joke. I forgot how good a tan looks, actually. I feel slightly hot-babe-ish. Not to mention slightly thinner. Aaaaah, the magic of melanoma.
The wedding was yesterday evening. Repo wasn't allowed to bring a guest, so I just told him I'd meet up with him after the reception. They were all planning to go to the bars later. Since I had lots of time to get ready, I made a nice dinner (whole-wheat pasta, Prego, shrimp and feta) and decided to get dressed up. I figured everyone would be in suits and ties, so I should look the part. I decided to audition my new red dress. The way it's designed, you can't wear a bra with it. So it's kinda low-cut. It did a good job at masking my new tan lines, too. Bonus: it's really really comfortable. It was so nice to look nice. I hadn't really gotten gussied up in a while. And if I do say so myself, I looked pretty smokin'. Repo agreed. I think this might be his new favorite outfit on me.
I got to the hotel where the reception was. I called Repo to see which room he was in, but then I figured that the loud group of people in the parking lot were probably with me. I was right. I looked over and waved to him.
Repo shuffled me around, yelling to all his friends, "Hey! Come here! I want you to meet my girlfriend!" He was so cute, running around after everyone, making sure I could meet them. He scored some points, I gotta say. He kept telling everyone how beautiful I was. I had to take it with a grain of salt since he'd been drinking. But hey, a compliment is a compliment.
We went inside to where the reception was wrapping up. Just to collect everyone for the after-party. I didn't want to go in because I wasn't invited and I was wearing red. Everyone reassured me that it was ok. And the happy couple left within minutes of us going inside. But I still felt like a wedding crasher. Oops. The bride probably saw me and thought, "Who in the hell does this bitch think she is?"
After much hemming and hawing, we decided to just stay in B's hotel room and party there rather than go the bars. Repo's friends are pretty funny and gave me a hard time. Actually, they all took turns giving each other a hard time, too.
I was put on the spot a couple of times by his (highly intoxicated) friend, Chief. Chief had been drinking for 11 hours straight at this point, so he was at the point that he didn't care what he said or who he offended. He kept asking me questions about my boobs. Then he asked Repo about my nipples and what sexual positions we prefer. I wanted to hide. I'm usually pretty good about taking jokes, but I was starting to get a little self-conscious. I wouldn't have felt that way if I knew everyone in the room, but I had just met all of them and now had to discuss my breasts. I was beginning to regret my wardrobe decision. But I think I was a pretty good sport. I like his friends, despite their drunken interrogations. I told Repo he owes me for that, though.
Since he and I were exhausted, we went home by 1:30. I didn't get up until noon. I am still exhuasted. And I'm not wearing that dress around drunk people ever again!