I came in and for the next four hours I was largely useless.  I wiped, and I moved a bit, but mostly I was a bystander to others' plans.  I would have been OK with that, except that my leadership, competence and manhood has been questioned by someone ... someone whom I may have tried working with today.

The worse part of the day was helping this guy move a rug.  I thought I was helping, but I didn't get a good enough grip on it, and just before it hits the floor the guy tells me to give up my end.  I thought he was going to let me get another chance to grip it, but instead he reaches out to grab my side.  So see him clutch both sides of a wide carpet in a "V" shape, while he's walking bowlegged to the far end of the room.  Obviously it's a two-man job.  And I was just standing there, with my limp dick in my hands 'cause I couldn't help this guy carry fucking one-half of a rug.

---

What am I doing here?  They're doing all the credit; from what I heard last week, I'm about to get all the blame.

But then I realized something: I hold the pursestrings.  They're expecting to get reimbursed by me.  Ah!  So that's why I'm here.  This is a reason for existence!  I have to keep saying that to myself: I hold the money ... I hold the money ... I hold the money. ...

But then I realize that I've been allowing them to buy all the shit.  Not only that, I tell them to save the receipts so I can pay them back.  That doesn't mean they're limiting themselves to some phantom budget even I haven't articulated.  So they've just run roughshod over me.  This is going to eat up the whole fucking account, isn't it?

---

Oh yeah, just like Friday night, there was a party, and I was in a similar attitude of "Fuck it, why not have fun while I'm going down in flames?"

This time, though, there was no crowd, nor was there some weird protector who threatened me while not looking at me.  Most of the girls were away, but so were nearly all of the customers.

I missed my ****a, who left a bit earlier than I thought was the end time of the party wearing this fucking hot bebe body stocking.  But there was only one girl dancing for one guy there, while another guy was waiting.  The waiting guy left, and the guy getting a dance got done (he also got done doing something with his pants, which I unfortunately noticed while I was looking in to see if they were finished).  But ... hey, no guys!  In fact, the host of the party, a guy, was downstairs cleaning up the food.  He told me to go back upstairs and wait.  He didn't care, and/or he didn't suspect a thing.

Maybe I should cum to this guy's parties more often.

So I wait for her to get done, to go back to the dressing room and pee.  We go back into the large living room that serves as the dancing room -- again, for the first time I've seen it, just us two -- and she immediately takes me to the coasters with pictures of vaginas.  The host, by the way, has pictures of his now-grown sons, as well as a screed against taxes.  Hardcore libertarian contrarian, I believe -- probably a guy I would not want to talk to, yet he's awesome when it comes to parties.

Oh yeah -- I decided that this girl -- er, woman -- showing me these vagina coasters meant that she would want me to reciprocate.  BAM!  Went out my cock!  And she goes, "No, we can't do that here."

"But do you do that?"

"No."

Oh, fuck.  That didn't stop her from groping/rubbing me over my pants ... except that she forgot that I did not button my fly, therefore her fingers slipped into my netheregions and she did touch my pee-pee, at least for a second!

That's all I got, although she let me touch her all over the place, to the point of finger-banging, in fact.  At the end, when I pleaded with her to touch it, she replied, "Maybe some other time?"

So you're saying there's a chance?

By the way, the stripper I'm talking about is the one I've referred to in the past as Chelsea Handler rode hard and put away wet.

---

Back to the party.  My body is feeling good, like the day will be a good day.  My heart betrays my mind, which knows -- knows -- that something unforeseen will blindside me and I will once again be stuck looking like a goddamn fool.  I just have to hope that people will not disrespect me ... and that I don't give them a reason to ridicule and/or ignore me.

What I have to avoid, I have no fucking idea.  But apparently my predecessor may have already done that.  While trying to sleep earlier this evening I re-read the e-mail blast.  I noticed something: It made no mention of me.  I was just shunted off to the side, like I didn't matter.

Maybe he forgot to add me in.  But I sure as fuck am entitled to some respect, respect he apparently refuses to give me.

I thought he was a cool guy.  Now -- now, I have the right to ask him some questions.  Like, this week.