I have a conundrum.
I have been invited out by the “cool kids” at work to go to the pub (called P.J. O’Reilly’s. Yes, I am talking about a pub, not some flame haired Irish lass, I wish I was talking about some flame haired Irish lass, with that heavy brogue Irish accent don’ya’know a feedle dee dee. As you can see from my gross clichés about how Irish people speak, I’ve never actually met one in real life, and if I don’t meet one soon, I’m going to assume that Irish people are actually like leprechaun’s and have become extinct) Actually it’s the second time they’ve invited me out, the first time I did have a legitimate excuse for not going, this time I’m not so sure.
I do wonder why in the world I got this invitation in the first place. I don’t sit anywhere near the “cool kids” and I’m actually well-behaved at work (90 day probation and all, once I pass that I can breathe a sigh of relief and dance to Kenny Loggins Footloose from the foyer to my desk. Does anyone still remember that music video?? For those of you born in the late 80’s – 90’s I have linked 😛 Where can I get those dual headsets for my iPod??? Yes, I am that much of a loser.)
So like I said, I haven’t really let much personality shine through for fear that well everyone will come to the right conclusion and realise I’m as nutty as a Picnic Bar. Then they will judge me! And burn me as an offering to their god!
I’ve had a lot of sugar today… I’m sorry.
And it’s not like I don’t want to go, it’s just that I haven’t budgeted for a weekend out, and I may have cracked a tooth. It doesn’t hurt to the point where I am willing to take a screwdriver to my own mouth, but it’s nigglyingly painful.
And they actually do seem like a decent bunch of people to befriend. An email chain was sent to the group, and it was only 4 emails into the chain before the “Yo Momma” jokes started. Now, I may have the mental capacity of an 8 year old, but seriously a well executed “Yo Momma” joke is just too awesome for words. Sure it can go too far, and gets old realllllly quickly. But at the right time and place, nothing will endear me to you more than bagging out my mom, or your mom, or someone else’s mom, or even yourself, if you’re a mom. (And yes I realise as an Australian I should be spelling it “mum”, but dagnabbit it just doesn’t look right!)
So, do I go out and socialise (and most likely come back with at least one story of the disaster I always seem to create as I sweep through life, and hell maybe if I get home and am still able to work a keyboard, a drunken post!) AND inevitably work up a lot more credit card debt? And I’m talking about a LOT. I’d say at least $500. Okay it’s not a fortune, but it’s still a big amount for essentially a night that will only be remembered through the photo’s on other people’s phones, and the bewildered reminisces of the people I’ve accosted.
Or do I behave and stay in for the night? Where you will be treated to a comatose inducing post about my views on underwear.
And if anyone is going to suggest, “just have one or two beers” STOP. If you’ve been reading this blog a while, you will know that I cannot do things by halves. Don’t ask me why, that’s just they way it is. If I go out, I go out flaaaamming!
That’s not right…