Last week was obnoxiously filled with work-related meetings. It made me tired. It was all capped off with a very long, boring meeting with some Chinese guys (no, not Juan Hunglo or Som Yungai) we are into a losing JV with. I’m supposed to be the intermediary’s intermediary. For the past year, I have been answering the same questions and going in the same circle. I can’t even tell you how much tea I’ve had to drink. My blood runs Chinese tea now.
My weekend was great – what I can remember of it. My blood is not really tea, but Beefeaters, after this weekend. Amazing how you can be a top contender in the Alcohol Olympics and score a silver in both vodka and whiskey; only to be sorely beaten by the gin-drinking athletes. For the first time in almost 10 years, The Romanian was the designated driver. I repeated the mating call of the blondes, "I'm sooooooo drunk!" I can remember bits and pieces; laughing so hard that it hurt. Thankfully, it wasn't the kind of alcohol that makes your crotch hurt later. tee hee. Note to self: Don’t eat spicy seafood after drinking lots of gin. Very very bad.
I am now off to Dubai for a boondoggle: 3 days of Middle East Rail Projects. WTF – now I’m a railroad engineer? “I’ve been work-in on the raaaaaail road… all the live long day….” Whatever. I get paid to do this stuff. I’m looking at the conference schedule and guessing I can blow off the entire second day to go play by the pool (French martinis baybeeee!). I’m hoping my Romanian Partner-In-Crime can come with me.
Speaking of fluids… I bought a juicer. I’ve always wanted one. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. I’ve been watching those damn programs on Showtime like, “How to look 10 years younger.” They have F-ed me up. I am liking the juicer, however. One night last week, I tried juicing just about everything in my refrigerator: I was getting carried away and had to stop when I wanted to see what would happen if I juiced a chicken. Not good. Anyhooo, I ended up making myself sick (no surprise) and spent the rest of the night in the bathroom. My dog got scared and stayed under the bed. Such is my life.
Speaking of sick.... Bobarino’s reception was otay. Nice to see people I haven’t seen for a while. The venue was lacking, but hey – whatever. I think we would have been more comfortable back at his roof-top residence barbecuing some meat. As it was, I was still pretty hung over, so what they had on offer was just fine. They probably had no clue that I was hung over because I only resemble my normal self when I am.
We saw the Jailbird this weekend too. He’s lost weight, but he looks good. He seemed to be sitting just fine, so I guess he’s ok there… no comment. He is going to look for a site for this year’s desert camp today. Last year, it was really nice – up on a hill across from B’naider. 245 seems to be THE place to be. All the land on the left side of the road with the chalets is prohibited for camping this year. I wonder why. I would imagine all the people with chalets (politicians?) got pissed off. I can’t wait to be back in the desert: barbecue on my fingers; sand in my toes and drunk off my....