Disorientation

I just spent the last three days in our beautiful state capital at the expense of my generous employer for my official orientation. I got to meet other newbies from across the state, and sit through exciting lectures about nail-biting, cliff-hanging topics such as ethics and tax-advantated accounts. We got no swag (gasp! Non-profits suck!). But they did give us a generous dinner allowance (Yes, I think I would like to see the dessert menu).

The highlights were definitely going out for sushi and manicures with a fellow disorienter, and the cable tv in the hotel. The lowlights were my extremely chipped manicure within twelve hours (not so much a chip as a chunk), and the embarrassment the Embassy Suites calls a "continental breakfast".

I made new friends, as well as a whole contingent of others to add to the growing following of people who think I'm odd and overly talkative. Sweet.

A prime example of this is during a computer training, where our instructor was teaching us all the ways to seek out customer information and kept saying "Socs" instead of "Social Security Numbers". For some reason it just kept grating on me. I turned to my seatmate and told her that if this chick keeps talking about the "Socs", we were gonna have to go get Ponyboy for a rumble tonight. Luckily she was one of the few who occasionally caught my obscure and random references and said if that was the case she was glad she brought her switchblade.

I like her. I hope we stay friends.

Update regarding previous post: Our camping trip went well, aside from my husband's teenage Lolita stalker who strategically exposed her perky young bits at him while I was taking a trip to the pit toilet. Classy. I know I'm getting older, because my first reaction when he told me about it was "Where were her parents?"