When DJ's are bad, they are terrible

Last night was our annual fancy dress-up staff christmas party for work. The one where we all dress up and pay $7 for drinks, eat pretty decent food, and make small talk with people we don't really know. And then the "dancing" starts, and I get hives.

There is something about DJ services that makes me miserable. It's the concept of lowest common denominator, and it drives me BANANAS. Take a room full of people. Any room full of people. Who decided that a Grease medley is what we all want and need to hear? Followed by Boot-Scootin' Boogie, Raise a Little Hell, and for fuck's sake, Ra-Ra-Rasputin? I HATE Ra-Ra-Rasputin. It invokes some kind of Nazi sentiments for me. Seriously. And then, for one song, the DJ will play something that actually gets more than 4 people on the dance floor, so what do they do? They immediately change genres to something completely different and the dance floor clears. IF YOUR DANCE FLOOR IS FULLER THAN IT'S BEEN ALL NIGHT KEEP PLAYING THE SAME GENRE. At least for a few songs. It's not rocket science.

Anyways, there are times, like last night, that I can't let that shit go, and all I can focus on is how terrible the music is, and how fucking cheesy the scene is, and how I'm supposed to act like Thunderstruck is the best fucking song ever and rock out to it, and I can't let it go. Last night I kept thinking "it is what you make it, it is what you make it", but try as I might I could not make Pour Some Sugar on Me into anything not resembling disgust. Good times. So we had a few more $7 drinks and made some more small talk all in the name of trying to have fun and then waited for a cab forever to get home, and this morning I am broke and tired and regretting the money spent on the pursuit of happiness.

Lots of shit going on otherwise. We've settled into the new place, our '63 Mayfair bungalow with the awesome back yard. Had a little bit of a nice fall getting to enjoy it, but I sure can't wait for summer next year and growing a garden with Alejandro. He's all about the real food and eating well and I know I haven't had a garden in years but am looking forward to tending one with him.

And I'm waiting for surgery. Yep. I'm saying it like it's no big deal but those are serious words. In the last year I've started getting wicked awful menstrual cramps and finally went to a doctor then a radiologist then a gynecologist and am now waiting for laparoscopy to take out the giant cysts that are taking over my lady bits. I have never been in so much pain. I'm losing 2 days a month to this right now, and am long past my allowed sick days at work, so am having to also deal with not getting paid 2 days a month. Side note - you can't use short-term disability for something like this as you have to be off work for 4 days minimum... so I guess I need to stay home for 4 days instead of 2 every month? Makes no sense. My helpful HR contact said "may I suggest bringing a heating pad to work to deal with the discomfort?". "Oh sure, I'll be sure to use it in between bouts of VOMITING FROM PAIN". Fuck.

So I'm waiting for that and I'm also supposed to be getting my wisdom teeth pulled which is pretty much one of my biggest fears but I've "lost" the phone number to the dental surgeon from when they called and left a message cuz my other health issue is a bit more urgent right now. I've started falling apart I guess. My grey hair and whisker quotient has also dramatically increased. This getting older business is bullshit. But maybe I'll learn to love AC/DC at parties now.