Man it’s been busy at work. A lot of running around, a lot of bruised egos, a lot of nonsense, which I am able to avoid mostly. I just keep running around, and running away from the strife. Felicia and Linda keep butting heads, but at least this time, they’re not alternately whispering in my ear about how much one detests the other. Tomorrow night is an office party, which Bill is attending as my guest. I gave him the heads up already that they are a rowdy and crazy bunch that I work with. He seems fine with that.

I don’t know what to expect since I’ve never attended a party with these people. I’ve had exactly one drink once a few months ago after work when someone was leaving, but this time it’s the office en masse and his or her spouses, and me with mine. It’s costing the company some bucks that’s for sure. I will see if the better halves are actually the better half. I guess I’ll have to find time to write during the day since the party isn’t scheduled to end until midnight, not that I will be there until then. NFW. I have to get home and then go to sleep for a few hours and then back to work again. It’s not bad at all, considering it’s only a four day week for me.

Amiable Alan has been quite busy and hasn’t had much time to talk or hang out. That’s the job, he’s in production, producing in his amiable style. He’s a real sweetheart though, I hope he can make it to the party, although he’s been hemming and hawing about how he might not be able to due to some circumstances in his life. If it’s like any other office party that I’ve been to, its more than likely the people that talk to each other all day will continue to do so into the morning, perhaps enhanced chatter with alcohol breath.

On the way home, I stopped off and picked up some cool buttons for my nephew Earl’s birthday. 16 years old, and I hope he likes the Ramones, Bob Marley, and Nirvana pins that I bought. All three bands/people are defunct due to dead members. I got on the trains at the World Trade Center and was actually able to have a seat, so I read the New Yorker piece by Woody Allen which was really funny. A return to form.

I got off in Hoboken and ran into my friend Donna Lispenard. Donna lives diagonally across the street from McSwells. She and I share September 12 as a birthday but she doesn’t recognize that day since she became a Jehovah’s Witness. She cooled to me somewhat though we do exchange pleasantries when we see each other on the street. She had me over for Thanksgiving and other holiday dinners in the past, she’s a fantastic cook, but that fell by the wayside when Jehovah entered the picture.

Donna greeted me with a hug and a kiss, and we chatted. She asked me to walk with her towards her car where she told me about a fire in her apartment building. She chastised me for not calling her to see if she was alright when I told her I read about it, but she’s on the second floor and the fire was on the fifth. Her apartment wasn’t damaged but she can’t live there at the moment, so she’s staying with some Jehovah’s Witnesses in Jersey City. It turns out her well to do friend Paul, was growing herb in his apartment.

Seriously growing herb, fifty pounds worth when the apartment caught fire. He’s vanished, being well to do he probably fled the country. Donna asked me what kind of sentence would he get if he turned up, and I said probably twenty years, since he was growing and it wasn’t for personal consumption, it was with intent to distribute. And with a school a few blocks away, who knows? It would depend on the prosecutor and the judge actually.

I walked Donna to her car, it was parked in a dark area. She berated me again for not calling, and I told her that I could have lied and said that I tried calling but since she wasn’t living there she didn’t get the call. She laughed and thanked me as she got into her car.

Interesting note. The counter on this blog says I’ve written 364 entries, which I know can’t be true since the first entry was on October 7. Tomorrow is September 28. Dig the new math.