Riding the Slipstream

I attended an Awards function with the gf last night. The event was sponsored by the company she works for. Black tie. The perfect gentleman. It hurts just thinking about it. I was not looking forward to going, but the matter of my attendance was not negotiable. That much was made clear from the start. I haven’t worn my tux in a long time and was surprised that it still fit me. The last thing I wanted to do was to go to a tailor for alterations. There is something about having your body parts touched and measured that does not seem right… especially when it is done all over. Some things are a lot more tolerable when there’s a certificate on the wall… preferably from a medical school. I do clean up nicely, if I dare say so myself. (bleh) Ok, perhaps I am just vain… anything (anyone) looks good in a tux… just watch The March of the Penguins. Those little guys look so friggin cute! (insert the smiley face) Half of the evening was spent sitting at the table as award after award was doled out. It is not quite the Emmys or the Oscars, but one would never say that judging by some of the acceptance speeches that were made. Whatever happened to a humility! Apparently she’s been fucked over by arrogance and self-importance. It is hard to remain upbeat and positive when you are confined to a chair for more than 90 minutes. On the other hand it could just be the ADHD or the lack of red wine. (Oh, look! The ice-cream in my bowl is shaped like the The Virgin Mary!) There is nothing worse than being at a party when the number of people you know can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Between the head-nods and the introductions, I always feel like I am taking part in a parade. Being introduced or referred as [S] s bf kind of has the effect of reducing one to the rank of kept boy… only the perks are not as exciting. The key to surviving a dull party is to have arbitrary knowledge on as many topics as possible. “Fake it and work it”, that’s my motto. This is quite easy to do as most conversations are about as profound and enjoyable as sticking your finger up your nose. And if you run out of things to say and your neck tires from all the nodding, you can always excuse yourself by pointing to your empty glass and walking over to the bar for a refill. Of course I had to be on my best behaviour. Some things just aren’t funny when it could mean the end of your gf’s professional career. A word to the wiser… if you ever have the misfortune of being introduced to a financial consultant named Simon, pull the fire-alarm and make for the exit… immediately. He will suck you into a vortex of ass-numbing me-me talk that will make you want to shove a scud missile up his arse. In the end the evening was a huge success or so I was told. I don’t actually know what makes for a successful Awards Evening as it mostly depends on what you wanted to achieve in going there. Of course, if you had won an award… that goes without saying. To the losers… well, I guess there is honour in being nominated. Yeah right, I’d rather be pissing blood! Face it… it sucks to lose. As for me, well my aspirations on this occasion were rather low. I made the girlfriend happy, got home just before midnight… sober and in one piece.