“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” I said. He said, “you too,” and we decided we’d know each other for a long time.

I know girls. I understand hidden meanings and intentions and I know what playing mind games looks like. I used to do it. Until very, very recently I used to do it. Because I could. Because I was bored. Because I look like an innocent bystander on the outside while my insides rot with heartbreak. And no one would suspect the little blonde with the British novel fetish to be guilty of being an evil, manipulative whore. But hey, if the shoe fits.. it must be a one size fits all. Because you know you’ve pulled some stupid shit too, babe.

For not being taught “How To Be A Bitch 101” in school, we sure got the hang of it pretty quick.

Last night was the Sony Style Fashion Show in the Distillery District. I love being guest list-able for events like that. It gives me a deluded sense of inclusion – and sometimes you just need to feel “in”. M did a completely bang-up job (as predicted) and really got to show people what she’s made of.

5 free Iceberg Vodka martinis, plenty of Sony Style photos and some pretty terrible fake British accents later, we decided it was time to get our goody bags and skedaddle. Home and tipsy by 8:30. Ahh, what it means to be a working gal with a semi-social life and a deep rooted love affair with vodka.

I can’t remember the last time things ended up how I expected them to. I was terrified this new girl in our office would terrorize the dynamic we had going on – not that it was ever a particularly good one – and she would instantly aim to make my life miserable.

Instead? She reveals her secret obsession with Coca Cola and blares Black Eyed Peas whenever the *eff she feels like it. Not to mention her hair looks amazing every single day, no matter how she styles it and she has a wardrobe any recessionista could only dream of.

She makes the office just a little bit more tolerable. Because now that MB is gone and KC’s off gallivanting in Boston, I’m left relatively on my own. You know, to cy at my desk and whatnot.

Mmmmm cute coat!

Tonight’s plan: go home, do not consume any martinis (free or otherwise), power-nap for 30 minutes, watch GG, cry and scream at Chuck Bass and spend the remainder of the evening trying to figure out why I put myself through the emotional torture of watching that stupid show every week.

PS. the Hills was on last night. I didn’t even WATCH the show at all until I got sick this past summer and spent 2 days watching the entire last season in bed. Shit.

Sometimes I actively have to tell myself that television isn’t real life.

Until next time, my loves ♥