My work had our big fall fundraiser this evening, which I suspect went well, but since I tend to spend these events as a walking talking stressball (L, I think I was in dire need of a colored frog...) I'm not entirely sure what exactly took place between 5:30 and 10 this evening. I do seem to recall seeing a fair number of rich people drinking and laughing, and I only had to deal with one volunteer telling me how awful my check-in system was, so I count that as a good night. I guess the money will decide whether or not it was a good night - but since I'm in charge of figuring out exactly how much we grossed, and since I fully intend to put off this despicable task for as long as possible, it might be a while before we know for sure. (You can't see me but I'm shaking my fist right now at the eight giant cardboard boxes in various trunks of cars that are currently full of receipts, credit card slips to be processed, signup sheets in no particular order, miscellaneous wads of cash, and silent auction forms. I HATE YOU ALL, FINANCIAL RECORDS.)
Also, can we all take a moment to collectively let our mouths hang open at the amount rich people will pay for shit? Really I shouldn't complain, and I know people pay more at benefit auctions out of the goodness of their hearts, but SERIOUSLY. We had this goofy framed autographed photo of the man R has called our nation's greatest hero (though you'd be forgiven for taking his opinions with at least a small grain of salt... this is also the boy who once asked me, if I could commit a hate crime against any brand of dental floss, would it be this one?) that went for WELL OVER FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS. I know Texans love Lance - but really????? My co-workers and I solemnly vowed never to mock the man or his rabid fan base again. Not a guarantee.
As you read in the previous post, R is currently in sunny California with Rebecca, picking oranges and running on the beach and generally living off the fat of the land, as best as I can tell. I was inclined to be much more bitter about this twenty minutes ago, when I'd consumed nothing for the past 10 hours except two cups of white wine, but now that I've eaten a bowl of granola and the remainder of a box of butter crackers (remember when you were a kid and you used to dream about the crap you'd eat for dinner if only your parents let you? I'm kind of having one of those moments), I'm feeling much more generous in spirit. Sadly, I don't get to visit Rebecca in Santa Cruz this time around, but I do get to see her next weekend when we all convene in Portland for the Pacific Northwest Convention! Then R and I are continuing up to Seattle where we get to see THE NEPHS! and I once again attempt to convince R's parents that really I'm so much more than the Jewish honky he's living in sin with, and if I had my way, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, he would cut his hair and pray before bedtime and get a law degree. Or at least an office job.
I think I still have drink tickets tucked in my bra. It might be time for bed.