Party in the USA

Oh gosh what a fabulous few weeks.  Working hard.  Playing hard.  Not really sleeping hard, but I'm hoping to start chipping away at the backlog tonight.  One of my most recent weeknight adventures took place on the USS Sequoia, the presidential yacht (well, it was the presidential yacht until President Carter decided it was bad form to be using taxes to float around in a yacht, so he sold it).  A few rockstars at work met the owner and charmed him into giving us a screamin' deal on throwing a party, so before you know it I was aboard one Friday evening with around 25 of the DOE's young and hip scene.  Not only did we get to peek into the bedroom where JFK and Marilyn Monroe...*ahem*...retired for the evening after she sang him "Happy Birthday Mr. President" at Carnegie Hall, but we also held our own Michael Jackson dance party on the roof while it was conspicuously tied to the Cantina Marina dock on Washington's southwest waterfront (a refreshing splash 'o tacky for all of you non-Washingtonians).

(below is the bedroom *wink wink*)

Last night's energy extracurriculars took place at the Mandarin Oriental bar with some of my favorite coworkers.  Great spot- and thank goodness- because it's just about the only cocktail watering hole anywhere close to the office.  But, as I've expressed before, I am incapable of staying up past midnight without being completely wrecked the next day and this was no exception.  I looked like complete, haggard shiz at work, stuffed my face with the disgusting, greasy cafeteria buffet fare at lunch (GENTLEMEN:  "FARE" AS IN FOOD, NOT AS IN A CARNIVAL.  Let me speak for all of us when I say that ladies are *not* impressed when you misspell this in your texts.  Kthx.), and left an hour early because I was nodding off in my office.

Which brings me to my next point:  goodnight darlings!  xo