If there is at least one person in your life whom you consider a close friend, and whom you would not have met without the internet, post this sentence in your journal.

I went on an impromptu pub crawl on Friday with a bunch of people from the Studio department at work. Well, impromptu for me – they pretty much just grabbed me and dragged me along as I was leaving work. They however had planned it in frankly terrifying detail. There was a map and a schedule! With highlighted bits! Each pub we were meant to go to was labelled on the map and the schedule included how long the journey time was between each and what time we had to leave each one by in order to get them all in to the allotted time. A couple of people were really strict about keeping to it too. We were meant to be going to a pub for every letter in the company name, Hemscott, for example The Hand and Sheaf for H and Ye Olde Red Cow for O. They actually went to the E at lunch and I, through a slightly confusing detour, missed H, so I apparently work for Mscott (like Mmm Cookies). We’d actually got around them all by nine thirty and stayed the rest of the night in the last pub playing drinking games.

After a heated argument over the rules of Fuzzy Duck, we settled on the Celebrity Name Game, which incidentally, I rule at. At that moment, it occurred to me that with the only two girls in Studio having left, I was the only possessor of the double X at a table of eleven people. And being flirted with by a guy who’s been with his girlfriend for five years. This happens to me surprisingly often with drunk, non-single, male friends. This is because I am the safe option. They all know nothing’s going to happen with me – I’m one of the guys, except with boobs. Sigh. Although there was one highly entertaining moment when I complained that for some unknown reason, the buttons on every single one of my shirts have started to pop open at random times throughout the day, just where it stretches across my breasts. I have no idea why – I’m a fairly average size – but the expression on a guy’s face when they’re trying to look at anything but your chest is classic. I wanted to do an Elliot-style, “look before your neck snaps” retort but sadly, didn’t.

It was nice to be told that people like having me on reception at work, and even nicer when one guy summed up pretty much how I feel about the whole gig. This was that he thought I was doing a great job but the problem was that if someone’s doing the job well, it means they’re definitely way too good for it.

So, umm, yay.

Does anyone else's wrists hurt after a blood test, or is that just me? - Wednesday, Mar. 01, 2006
Funky Dory Limited? - Monday, Feb. 27, 2006
Wish Me Luck - Thursday, Nov. 24, 2005
Maggot Update - 9:43 am - Thursday, Nov. 24, 2005
Maggot Update - Wednesday, Nov. 23, 2005