Today began on a somewhat miserable note as the subway workers continued their strike, making my commute to work almost impossible. I started on foot, then switched to bus, and then finally found the one (somewhat) open subway line in London which took me to Victoria Station where I caught my usual train to Battersea Park to start work with my girls about 40 minutes late. In all it took a bit more than an hour and a half, but it wasn't too bad.
My job as 'Office Manager' (my kick ass professional title) entails a lot of different tasks, and this morning, my boss asked me to make a quick set of labels for the invitations to the rehearsal dinner for her wedding. Since the names and addresses were already in a larger excel doc, I decided to copy and paste the information of those who were invited into another doc and then do a mail merge. The simple twenty minute task quickly became a royal (no pun intended) pain in the arce since the original document was a bit messed up, and I almost ended up tossing my little Compaq right out the window. But eager to finish the task and show the hot office women that I could keep my cool under pressure, I finally finished the stupid labels after about two hours.
Tonight, we visited the pizza buffet once again and ate ourselves to near puking. This may sound odd, but I can honestly feel myself getting fatter. After leaving the buffet the last 3 times, I have been very conscious of my massive gut, and I think my stomach has stretched to nearly double its original size at the beginning of the summer.
After the buffet, Joe and I met up with Luke and some other BUNACers at the Hippodrome, a dance club in downtown London. Much to our delight it was 'foam' night, and about every 5 minutes, massive quantities of soap-like bubbles fell from the ceiling. When the machine was on, the bubbles more than covered my head, and any attempts to breath would result in merely choking on some of them. Anyway, it was a great time: We danced, got soaking wet, and in some sense, probably received our best cleansing of the summer from the bubbles. Our apartment's dinky, low-grade, low pressure shower just ain't cutting it.