secret agent man

Eavesdropping is kind of a talent of mine, as well as a hobby; I think because of that whole invisible thing I mentioned. It's really fun, though I don't usually set out to eavesdrop. I often have to fight the urge to do so. But most of the time, opportunities present themselves eagerly. People will talk about anything around me and that's fine. I love to hear it. I don't know if it's because I'm pretty easygoing, or that I make it look like I'm a good listener, or perhaps that I have little to no personality. Honestly, I really don't care.

Today was pretty eventful. The move was on and we were off to another office. The new place is amazing, and I'm actually looking forward to work on Monday (I'm going in tomorrow, too, to set shit up). I thought it was going to be supreme fuss. There was just so much shit to move--computers, condiments, CDs. It was insane, but even though we worked on our many projects all week and only really packed one day, everything went super smooth and, actually, it was almost enjoyable. I did a lot more sitting around than I thought I would. There wasn't even any screaming, yelling, stress or over exertion. I spied in on some office gossip--I try not to chime in too much, but it's fun to listen to. I make my non-comment comments.

The only semi-lame part was when we were told that we could go, and those who gathered in the office talked with wide eyes about what they'd do with their Friday off. I was going to get a pint at the local watering hole, rent a movie, and then walk home and take a nap. I thought it was an excellent plan; but we got the call that there was still stuff we could do, and the nap was dashed. I did, however, have some beer and rent a movie anyway.

I think I've been drinking all day--one here, one there, but never a lot at once. My constitution isn't what it used to be.

I had dinner afterwards with a co-worker and her boyfriend and stuffed myself silly. I even got to eat for free. During dinner, I caught Ichiro score his record breaking 258th hit of the season (this Seattle Times article is great by the way), which was a bit of a thrill; I'm a big baseball fan, and Ichiro plays the game they way I like to see it played--infield singles, great defense, great speed and he doesn't swing for the fences everytime up. The old record (257) held up for 84 years and was set by George Sisler, a member of the Hall of Fame. Ichiro later scored another infield single later in the game to bring his total up to 259 with two games to play. Not to take anything away from Ichiro's great accomplishment, but Sisler did set his mark back when seasons ran eight fewer games than they do today.

Just before I had to over hear two dudes grill this girl on how to pick up women. It was kind of an annoying conversation to have to be privy to. I was chilling with my roommate watching season one of Arrested Development, sitting in my shitty sweatpants, drinking Bud Light, laughing myself silly and basking in the splendor that is Portia de Rossi when my other roommate bursted in with a bunch of drunk theater people. I was all whatever about it. I really didn't mind, but it meant I had to put on pants because we had guests, and because we needed more beer. Really, I needed the beer to be nice.

After everyone tried to take center stage (not exactly everyone) during a drinking game called California Kings (everyone plays it different, so I'm told, but though each card sometimes stands for a different thing, the basic premise is the same), they all tried to outsass and out flirt one another, which I have found is the mating ritual of the typical theater person. After a brief period of that, a round of obligatory good bye hugs ensued, followed by another brief period of mating rituals, followed by the 'deep conversation' that I had mentioned earlier in this entry. Though it could be argued that the 'deep conversation' is a slightly creepier offshoot of the mating ritual--a device that, admittedly, I had employed in my younger angst-y days--this particular incident seemed to be more for conversing purposes as opposed to a precursor to copulation. Flirtatious undertones did exist, however.

I don't know much about women (except, perhaps, that they usually smell nice), but I can say with some level of certainty that one way not to pick up women is to ask them how to pick up women. I may be wrong.