This past Friday marked my first real office party. (Sans the obligatory butt-xeroxing of course)....(or was it?.....note that the convienant office party paper shredder was also in working order)

Yes, it was quite the celebration for our boss' 50th birthday. We had been preparing this thing for months. Personalized napkins and mug holders, waiters, catering, live salsa band... the extravagence seemed unlimited. (Of course heavin forbid they spend this kind of money on, oh I don't know, THEIR RECEPTIONIST' SALARY??)

Right, so now even though Friday was a government holiday, we did not have off. So I helped set up after work until 6:30 for which I then went home and changed into *Cinderellegs*. You see, normally my office attire is mostly dark, full suits, barely showing skin-type clothing. I'm pretty self conscious and I don't think it's appropriate to wear "sexy" clothes at the work place. But I figured for this party it would be okay. So I changed from my black skirt and blue turtleneck to my new black pants with 3 inch strappy heels (I can't believe i just used the words 'strappy', '3 inch' and 'heels' in reference to something I would actually wear), and a low cut shiny gold sleeveless shirt. I curled my hair, put it up a bit and put on gold hoop earrings.

I walked into my newly Latin-ized workplace and everyone stared at my boobs.

(see aforementioned '3 inch heels' making me 5'11") So a few margaritas, pina coladas and dacquiris later I felt the need, the need to SALSA!!

Yeah so I danced in front of (and with) my co-workers and bosses. I was sober enough to question my behavior, but drunk enough to not really care. I didn't really eat that much Paella or the very authentically latin Tiny Hamburgers, so the alcohol went straight to my toes. Or at least that's where it felt like it went to because by the end of the night my feet were freaking killing me.

I know how cliche that is for women to complain about their heels but .. have YOU actually worn them? It appears the 'cuter' shoes are, the more 'I need to stab them in your eye'. I don't think it's a coincidence of the recent trend of recockulously pointy high heeled stilletos and women's increased appetite in both gardening and murder.

So around 11 most of the crowd had left and the band was dis-banding (hahaha....mm) and so I figured I should leave. However my car was valet'd and I had to either call a cab or call someone to pick me up. (I was of course the only dateless one there) So I called my friend Taylor and my ex-ex-ex that was with him and they picked me up. I hadn't seen him in like two years, so it was good to see him again. The only thing bad about Crazy Office Parties is tomorrow morning. Yes, the Monday morning 'I Don't Know What You Are Talking About, I Did Not Throw Up On Your Receptionist Phone On Friday Night, Day'. Or 'IDKWYATAIDNTUOYRPOFND' for short. (HInt: If you spell it out phoentically it's easier to remember.)