numerblogogy

Since Philly, I've been pretty busy. And since I'm so excited that I finally broke the 600 barrier on my countdown to leaving Pewston, here's the week in numbers:

• 5 is the number of hours it took to fly back from Philly
• 250 is the approximate number of people who danced at the square dance event at my workplace. Who knew there were so many freaks out there?
• 15 is the number of people at work who asked me how much rest I got at the conference? Rest? There's no rest for people who are going the distance!
• $29 is the amount I paid for some $210 Cole Haan shoes on sale, and $39 is the sale price for a $199 amazingly sexy top I bought for the Chinese New Year
• 5 is the number of new underwear I bought from Victoria Secret--yes, I know that I boycotted them 12 years ago in college because the salesbitch took one look at me and with a sneer said, "Um, I doubt we have your size here. We don't sell training bras." Yeah, well, now since last year was the year of my boobs, I've had 365 days to come to terms with mine, and I say, BITE ME, SALESBITCH, or I'll sick Don Eduardo on your ass! Of course, I still didn't buy a bra there, but then again, I try not to wear them much anyway.
  
• 10 is the number of consecutive minutes I listened in last week's staff meeting, which is a record for me.
• 3 is the number of ridiculous, mindless busywork projects I have to do before tomorrow's staff meeting.
• 2 is the number of martinis (or glasses of wine) it takes to make Glinda and me forget our boycott on Catbirds.
• 5 is the number of people who thought G and I were a couple.
• 6 is the collective number of text messages she and I sent to her brother, Cody. He's scared of me now, thanks to her.
• 19 is the number of Star Wars references made at Catbirds that night between Nerfherder and Darth
• 11 is the number of new friends Glinda made at Catbirds(and let me tell you--once she pulls out her first ciggy, she's on a mission to add as many phone numbers to her cell address book as possible. Among the new friends are Juicy, who sadly was hit by a car that night but is recovering; a guy who looks like a muppet but I didn't catch his name; Julian child and Buckwheat, his friend; a cartoonist librarian whom G counseled for awhile; Blondie, a girl who told me that her fake boobs are smaller than my real ones (I find that odd); two guys from Pasadena who got into a fight with another guy who forgot more English as he drank vodka straight; a woman I dub Mary Katherine Gallagher bc I thought that at any moment she might sniff her armpits in ecstasy; and some punky, gothy, roller derbyish chick who kept hanging on G all night toward the end.
  
• 21 is the age of Julian, from Scotland, who apparently got G's number and called her at 4am to get my number. creepy kid kept pulling my chair closer to his, every time I got up to get a drink, as if I wouldn't notice that it was practically on his crotch. Where are the normal guys, and more importantly, where are the normal 30 something guys?
• [ok, that much gets us through Catbirds] 40 is the number of kids smiling after they helped serve Valentine's dinner to people on Friday night. That was a blast.
• 2 is the number of funerals I've attended this week
• 6 is the hours of food poisoning endured this week.
• 1 is the number of hours I stayed awake during Hollywoodland on my first "date" with Edgy since the split. He fell asleep, too, though, so I guess the feeling was mutual. That bodes well, doesn't it? Granted, I was just coming off of the aforementioned food poisoning bender.
  
• 21 is the number of miles I've run/walked this week to destress.
• 4 is the number of apartments I've looked at before breaking down and calling Crazy Jackie.
• 3, the number of days left before I convince G to go out to dinner with me again ;-)