Two holiday parties, two declines. My office today, last minute, decided that they are having a holiday party tomorrow after work. Luckily, I have this Princeton Review job, which though isn't happening tomorrow, was the perfect excuse to use for why I couldn't come. Hanging out with my older co-workers who I have trouble talking to at work sounded like a nightmare. Social anxiety, say what?
My sister called me a short while ago, this notice even more last minute, to invite me the Marc Jacobs Christmas party. And though this one surely will be lots of fun and be good for celeb spotting, I had laundry in the dryer, and no idea what I could assemble to a Venetian themed party that she had to be at between eight and eight fifteen, meaning I would have had about ten minutes to try to find something, in addition to picking up my clothes from the laundromat, before rushing up to midtown. I know that I am going to regret this decision of mine later tonight when I am eating pasta and watching The Devil Wears Prada, probably thinking how pathetic my life is, and probably not being too far off considering the decision I just made.
Tomorrow is Thursday and I hope a boy calls me because I don't want to be sad on Friday, any day.