27-Oct-2006

You know what's fun?  Networking.  It's especially fun when you are starving, but trying to have a conversation with a hot guy and so cannot snag a chicken skewer for fear of biting off more than you can chew or possibly impaling said hot guy with said skewer.  So instead you go for hummus and pita, which only makes you more hungry, and you eventually collapse in a wave of nausea onto the scary silverish couches.  THEN you look up, and who do you see?  Ex-Boss.  And he says, "Well, well, well."  And you call him an asshole.  You then have the following conversation, except it's not just with him.  It's with him and this Random Vandy Girl who has just moved out here, and, the more we talk, the sadder and more confused she looks, as if maybe she's regretting her change of venue:

Ex-Boss:  So, how are you doing?

Me:  I'm fine.  Got a new job.  Loving it.

Ex-Boss:  No, no, I said who are you doing?

Me:  No one.

Ex-Boss:  What???  You???

He then turns to Vandy Girl, mutters something, and I, of course, have to pipe in.

Me:  What did you just say?

Ex-Boss:  I was telling her about how we used to sleep together.

Me:  I don't remember that.  Must have been really drunk.

Ex-Boss:  Oh, you were. 

Date rape aside, it was really lovely to see him.  He's a VIP at one of the studios hereabouts, and I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.  I was his very first assistant ever, so he was still used to doing things for himself.  This led to shenanigans like naptime right after lunch, when I would curl up in his armchair, and he'd stretch out on the couch, and we'd just sleep for about half an hour.  We were lazy like that.  He also graciously put up with The Other Me and I's "Dawson's Creek" fetish, and, of course, he won't let me forget that September day when he saved my car from being towed.  I told him I was working on a "Monk" spec, to which he replied, "That's perfect!  Because you're obsessive-compulsive.  And you solve crimes!"  In.  Deed.