So I haven't posted about this, because it's somewhat traumatic for me. I'm sitting at the airport right now, waiting with about a hundred of Biggy's coworkers plus their SO's or guests, to catch a flight to Denver (why?), a destination we just found out this morning after boarding the charter buses (on which Jello shots were consumed, but not by me) to the airport. We were informed about this shindig back in December but not told where we were going. Guesses ran the gamut from Atlantis to Dollywood, but no one pegged it. We were given t-shirts, suitcases, and a packing list.
Does this sound like fun to you? Then you are not me.
To make this even better (Rupert, you will love this), I colored my hair last night, and it looks like a used shoe polish. So picture it--me, in a bad-hair ponytail, wearing a bad logo t-shirt and a name tag, waiting to fly somewhere that is NOT the beach.
Kathy, I'll call you.