Sandy… what a bitch.

We were having such a great time sitting around the table, drinking, and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Even John was joining in on the laughter.

Then she walked in with a big smile. A fake smile. So warm, but not. So harmless, but not. She walked in as if she had no intentions for anything evil, as if she was oblivious to the situation at hand.

“I got this,” she told John.

As John walked away, she said to us with an innocent look on her face, “Hi. How’s your night going?”

“Just fine,” we replied.

She proceeded to deal herself 21 after 21, and we proceeded to bleed chips until none remained.

Just fine indeed.

Sandy… what a bitch.

I drink coffee sometimes, but I’m not a big fan. I could live without it.

This time last year though, I was visiting Starbucks at least 3 times a day, if not 4, for 3 months straight. It probably had something to do with being in a hell called the rat-infested basements of Columbia University with Rachael, my avid-Starbucks-drinker co-worker, but you’ll have to read about that later after we publish our book, which is tentatively titled “Death by Endowments.”

There was the cab-ride-to-work cup of coffee…

…the mid-morning-pre-lunch caramel frappuccino…

…the after-lunch-can’t-keep-my-eyes-open espresso macchiato…

…and the why-the-hell-not-it’s-paid-for vanilla latte.

So yeah. I drink coffee sometimes, but I’m not a big fan. This Starbucks splurge happened only because of circumstance, and I stopped drinking their coffee the moment I left New York last July.

However, Rachael has been back in the office lately… and she introduced me to this new drink called the double shot on ice…

At a lounge-turned-club last Friday night, Tam (5 feet 8 inches, 170 lbs) accidentally bumps into a random guy (5 feet, 120 lbs) and apologizes to him. Based on the madness that occurred soon after the incident, this random guy must have been thinking:

I CAN’T BELIEVE HE BUMPED INTO ME AND APOLOGIZED SO POLITELY. THIS MAKES ME ANGRY! I’M GOING TO MAKE MYSELF LOOK LIKE AN ASS!

As Tam and company exit the place and head towards our cars, random guy and his crew come busting out of the club. Nobody is sure exactly what happened next, but we do know these facts:

1. Tam was sucker punched in the face
2. Random guy dislocated his elbow
3. The cops stopped by to ask about what was going on and Mike told them we were “having a reunion.”

As soon as the cops left, we made our escape into the night.

“An elbow dislocation occurs when the bones in the elbow are pulled apart, causing the ligaments that keep the bones together to stretch or tear. It may take from 2 to 8 weeks for the elbow to heal.” – random internet medical source

Way to go random guy…

I’m at the office on a Sunday. Am I annoyed? A little. But then again, I did work from home at least 5 times this past month where I probably spent more time looking inside the fridge than crafting those PowerPoint slides my company loves. I really can’t complain. Still, it’s a challenge doing any sort of work when you’re running on 4 hours of sleep after a night of drinking that involved a margarita machine, sombreros, fake mustaches, and games of flip cup.

At one point yesterday night, after numerous epic flip cup battles between siblings and roommates, the ultimate match up presented itself. When everyone came to the realization that there were two Eds among the crowd, chants of “Ed! Ed! Ed!” broke out for what seemed like forever. Both Eds stepped up to the table and chugged and flipped the night away until there was only one.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Ed I brought to the party, but I am still proud of him. Not only was it his first time playing the game, but I KNOW who the real drinker is… wait… is that a compliment? Yeah, I guess it is.

Those Citi credit card commercials were entertaining. I use to get a laugh out of the one with the two old ladies speaking like hicks. Now, it’s not so funny.

Somewhere out there in Houston, TX, I’m walking around speaking like a divorced, wifebeater-wearing, child support-paying, deadbeat dad (carrying around a brand new $300 Sprint PCS phone, of course). It’s not like I don’t want to become that person one day, but right now, it’s just too soon!

It all started with this random charge on my credit card:

I cleared it up with the credit card company but decided to leave the account number open to see if any other charges would come up. Who knows, maybe I spent $300 in my sleep?

Some days later, these charges appeared:

It turned out to be a traffic ticket and overdue child support, according to the credit card person I spoke to on the phone. Did the University of Texas data theft incident have anything to do with this? Maybe. Either way, he (or she) is screwed! This may be the most easily traceable fraud case ever.

It is kind of ironic this was a Citi card…