And It's Just More of the Same

All day meeting (as a nice addendum to yesterday's desire post, I spent most of one presenter's speech deciding whether or not I'd go to bed with him. This made it really difficult to take notes), Blaine took off early, Yellow's not there, and the expected and much-hyped big drunken dinner is apparently big-wig invite only, so of the twenty of us in the room, only about 6 are heading out for client debauchery. The rest of us are on our own. Denver fucking sucks. I want to go back to hanging out with the Indy team. They were way more fun.

What the hell's up with a stingy dinner?

Well, a lot, actually, but I won't go throwing rumors in, cause you know how that work-blogging stuff goes. Suffice to say, dinner tonight has gone from high-class back-smacking to a couple of beers with me, Sarah the construction manager, and a couple of the architects from the Chicago office. Not as snazzy. Though Sarah's cool, once again, I wish I could have picked my own friends' list for dinner.

Oh well. Better luck at my 30th, when everybody's invited.