Again with the trash talking

So, as I accommodate C with his endless search for the restaurant with the hottest waitresses we end up at the Village Taphouse. My choice. Whenever Michael and I go there even I get distracted by the waitresses.
I guess Wednesdays are different. Ah well. The food is always good, the chairs are overstuffed and leather, the televisions are large and they have a nice beer selection.
In other news, today I wore the same jeans and top that I wear every week. The exception was that I put on some high-heeled boots and some earrings (both of which I have worn before, though not simultaneously). I got endless compliments at work (two from my hot new coworker), and even one when I was at Old Navy trying on jackets. And, while this made me happy and led me to feel slightly less insecure, I couldn't help but wonder: what do my coworkers think of me every other day? Is this their polite way of saying please, you have under eye concealer: use it. We're sick of your ballet flats. It's nice when you spend more than two minutes on your hair.
The thing to remember, though, is that if C beats my Boston Marathon time on May 2nd I have to buy him a $100 bottle of brandy. If he comes in over 3:40 (or if I crack 1:39 during the half like what happened in the picture here) he has to buy me one.
So. Now I have to, like, try and what have you.
I never learn.