Do you have the rest of the week? Let’s get started.

Where do I start? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any other.

Saturday:
I got to RDU for my 5:00 flight to Boston. I was confused on many levels. First off, it was light out when I was arriving at the airport. Seeing the airport in daylight is always unsettling to me. Similarly, because it was Saturday, a whole new crew was working. I know I’m sad on many levels. Add that I know the staff at RDU by face and sometimes name to the list. Plus, I was flying JetBlue, so that was an entirely new experience.

The flight up was fine. JetBlue rocks. The seats have extra legroom and have personal TV’s. So, I got to watch 2 episodes of The Most Dangerous Catch while sneaking peeks to my left where an old dude was watching the Sawks. We made great time going up, and were rewarded for our efforts with a half-hour stint on the tarmac waiting for a gate to clear. While sitting there, I saw the plane from Newark that was carrying M and H up for the week. We were supposed to meet up and head out to the site together.

We finally got off the plane and headed to baggage. They were waiting for me. 45 minutes and 3 separate baggage carousels later, I had my bag. Yay Logan Airport! We got to the car and promptly got lost at the airport. We made our way out to Wellesley and got lost several times. By some miracle, we found Babson College and got to the conference center.

Background:

H is 42 or so, and has spent like 20 years in printing. He’s, in his words “A fat Jew”. We get along very well and have since the start. We don’t behave well when we’re together.

M is also 42. M has one volume and it’s LOUD. He’s also an idiot who has no sense of the moment. It’s hard to describe, but he’s kinda like having a toddler with you. Albeit a grown toddler with an odd-shaped head. He’s annoying as all shit. Don’t quote me, but I think he may actually be retarded.

We arrive, get to our rooms and head straight to the bar. I am in need of drinks. We’re wandering the center looking for the bar and griping about how RedCompany gave us no itinerary or anything when someone walks up to us and says “RedCompany?” We introduce ourselves to Terry from Tampa and head for beer. Several beers and games of pool later, we trudged back upstairs. Class was in session, on a Sunday, at 8:00 sharp. Good times.

Sunday

Class is in session. Whoopee. We got our agenda and saw that our presentation was right after lunch. Oh good. We were hoping for the following day so we could maybe think about preparing for it.

In advance of class, we’d been sent a buttload of work to do. We had a few hundred pages to read, a test to take, meetings to attend and a whole host of shit. I did very little of it. Actually, M took the test and forwarded me his answers. I went through it, corrected his errors and submitted a test with a perfect score (more on this to come). I wrote our presentation deck. H did nothing. He was happy about that.

We did some shit or another in the morning. Honestly, I can’t remember any of it because it was not at all applicable to what I do. I mean I have notes like this from Sunday:
“How do we drive color?”
“How do we get to do our jobs?”
“IW leads to specific things that need to change. This turns into a KEW -> BIA. This = $$ for RedCompany. KEW->BIA does not = a pilot”

Anyone got a clue what that all means?

We presented and I was awesome. I killed. My slides were awesome and I was awesome. The trainer tried to tell me I’d done things wrong. I told him he was wrong. He agreed.

We did something else, and then wrapped up.

This is where it all starts getting fuzzy.

We had a reception from 6-7. There were tubs of beer and wine. I had a few beers. We went upstairs to eat. We went back down to the reception room and saw that they were about to pack up. We went to grab a few more beers (because we didn’t have to sign for them) and the waiter-man said we could take as much as we wanted. Well, I eyed the huge plastic tub the beer was in, looked at H and we took it. One of the people in the group happened to have a room down in the basement level, so we took off with about 70lbs of beer and wine.

The remainder of the night was very strange. The mantra of the evening was “What happens in 101 stays in 101″. Well, I know you all like a rambling yarn.

Here’s what happened in 101.

In the room: Me, H, M (prone to yelling), JN (we were in his room), JP (the lone female), AG (From Tampa), CC (A guy who I knew from the fall) and SC (One of the presenters)

We got caught with the tub and had to return it. We filled JN’s sink with ice and beer. Realizing we lacked space, we filled his garbage can with ice and beer. We drank a lot. We griped that we were in town on a weekend.

After a while, CC and SC left. They had just flown in and were tired. This is where it got weird…and awesome.

JP started to bitch a lot about being there on a Sunday. In her words “Sunday is my fucking day. I get naked and I fuck all day long. I need to fuck.”

She then got out the Yellow Pages to find herself an escort, or dancer, or whore (not listed in the phone book in Wellesley MA by the way). She was serious. Deciding that we could not likely find an escort who took American Express, and that we could not likely expense the services, we went back to the drinking.

JP continued to bitch. She also got horny. She took off her sweater. In doing so, her tank top (no bra underneath) nearly came off. Someone commented that she was not wearing a bra and asked what kind of panties she had on: thong or bikini.

From this point forward, things really went downhill…Like, we all need more training from HR about how to behave when on company business.

AG, the comedian of the group, realizing where this was headed, just said “Hell, let’s ask the good question…Trimmed or not?”

JP: Shaved

Us all: (The “I can’t believe she just said that” face)

JP: I’ll show you.

Off went the pants.

Us all: (Same face) Several “Holy Shits” could be heard. JN was just sitting there, on his bed next to JP, with one of those “I’m getting laid” grins on his face.

JP put her pants back on (she was indeed shaven) and proceeded to tell us that on Sundays, she’s been known to fuck men or women. More of the “Oh shit” looks from the guys. And, again, that she needed to fuck….NOW!

Someone handed her an empty wine bottle and she humped it (pants on, but the effect was there). We were all astounded. This was Girls of RedCompany Gone Bad. After several more drinks and pelvic thrusts from JP, H and M left. I was not going anywhere. The show continued with her crawling around on the bed and cursing the phone book for not having an entry for Whores.

Finally at about Midnight, AG and I left. We gave JN the nod that guys give each other and wandered out into the hall. We just stood there and kept saying “Did that really happen? I mean…that happened, right?”

Now, did we behave like the idiots that a bunch of drunken people can? Yes. Did we perhaps take advantage of a very drunk young woman? Maybe. I’ll state that nobody touched her and it was her idea to take her pants off. We just watched. It was hilarious.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk about Monday.

I had the hangover that they modeled the term hangover off of.

For the 49 hours after I went to my room, I was punished in every way imaginable. I was punished for my sins. I have paid my penance and did nice things to strangers to make up for it.

It’s a good story.

11 thoughts on “Do you have the rest of the week? Let’s get started.

  1. The whores are listed in the Free newspaper “The Boston Pheonix”. The better ones take AMex. The hotel conceirge should have had a copy of one hbehind his desk.

  2. You should have put an ad on Craig’s list and found her a guy to fuck her (and taken pictures of the kind of guy that shows up to nail a strange woman from craig’s list. I have a feeling he would have a very “To Catch A Predator” type look). there’s plenty of guys in Boston jerking off in front of their computer that would have given her the fucking that she needed. Also, WOW, I think that chick’s more vulgar than I am. I don’t care how drunk I am, I’m not showing my heynannynanny to a bunch of printing dorks.

    That was an awesome story, ass monkey.

  3. And…for a moment, I was afraid someone might be offended or possibly think less of me. If I can figure out how to get a picture off my camera, I have a nice ass-shot

  4. well you can always send it to me via email attachment…that should be an option in the phone, and then I’ll send it back to you…not that you couldn’t just send it to yourself, but I really want to see strange naked bottle humping ass.

  5. Yes, I definitely think you need to include photos.

    And who’s booger face? His typos remind me of a certain MIA diarist with a penchant for pink.

  6. Oh holy shit. Yes to the pictures, please. You have my email if you can’t download them onto your blog. Next time take a video, YouTube and your adoring fans will thank you.

    This is the only reason I hate working now; I miss all the fun.

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