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[josh pov]

"You call it madness, but I call it love."
- Don Byas

"If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure."
- George W Bush (more insightful quotes from the current US President can be found on
http://www.insanityideas.com/quotemachine/quotemachine.php3?bycategory=yes&selectedcategory=45)

"In politics, stupidity is not a handicap."
- Napoleon Bonaparte

It occurred to me the other day that I spend almost my entire life at work. Not that it's a problem, I mean, I love my work, but sometimes I go home (when I actually manage to go home) and think that maybe there's more to life.

Of course, usually I'm about 3 beers worse off about this time and I'm also considering the possibility that there are aliens in my apartment, just so small that I can't see them. I can tell you - that's never a very good idea to have when you're drunk. Once I phoned Sam at about two in the morning and asked for a magnifying glass (although I think it was a ‘glass thing so I can see the aliens') Obviously Sam hung up on me. And Donna wasn't much more interested in my alien theories, either. Especially since I started trying to convince her that it was a government conspiracy. She was quick to remind me that I am part of the government and so I was probably involved in any conspiracy that they had going on. Took me a while to think about that one.

Anyway, so I'm spending all my time at work, and I've not had any…y'know…in months. I didn't even make it to first base with Joey and she's been the only woman that has shown any interest in the past year. It's not looking good, not good at all.

Which leads me to this bar that I'm currently in with Sam. Sam is also woman-less and isn't any more happy about it than I am. We also invited CJ, Donna, Ainsley and Toby, but the girls haven't turned up yet, and Toby informed us that as much fun as watching our ‘inevitable humiliation' would be, he'd rather stay in and do some real work. CJ, Donna and Ainsley don't know the plan yet. In fact it's all Sam's fault that they were invited at all. I certainly didn't want them to join us, I mean, how can we hit on girls if they're here with us, but Sam asked them before I shared the plan with him. The new plan is to get rid of the girls somewhere (possibly pay some guys to take them away?) and then Sam and I can go round and do our best. I'm considering a ‘Top Gun' type routine, but there's no microphone lying around and Sam is refusing to help me. Maybe after a few drinks he'll be more receptive to the idea.

But hey, I'm a man, a man with a plan. A man on a mission, if you will.

The bar is quite full since it's a Friday night and so Sam and I have to basically force our way through the crowds, elbowing people left and right and causing them to spill drinks in order to get from the bar to the only free table in the place. We narrowly beat a group of guys in suits that now look really pissed off with us.

So let the mission commence.

We really need a name for the evening, though. ‘Josh and Sam's mission to go and find someone nice to date' (JASMTGAFSNTD for short) isn't really all that catchy, and it's the best I've come up with in the last few hours. Yes, I did work thank you very much. And very important work it was too. Sam's the speechwriter - he should have some better ideas.

"Sam, we need a name for the mission." I tell him, taking a mouthful of the beer in order to get some inspiration.

"Mission?" he asks.

"Yeah, the mission for us to try and attract some female attention tonight," I inform him. "So, a name."

"A name. Hmm," he says thoughtfully. I'll let him think about that for a while. And I'll do some of my own thinking.

Mission Impossible? No, ‘cause it's not going to be impossible.

Mission … I'm trying to think of all the words I can think of that begin ‘im' ‘cause I think that it would sound quite catchy, what with the play on the impossible theme. All I can think of is imbecile, which really isn't true. Mission Impervious? Somehow I think not. Mission Importune. Could possibly turn out that way, but I'm not liking it as a name. Mission Impress. Now that's not so bad. But not, well, it's not so catchy. Mission Impeccable. I'm thinking that could be the one. It's a faultless mission - it's impeccable. I like it.

"Mission Impeccable," I tell Sam.

"That's good. I was thinking more along the lines of ‘quest for companionship', but yours is probably easier to remember when drunk,." he says.

Mission Impeccable. It's a good name. Damn, I'm good. And I've still got half a beer left.

Let's implement Mission Impeccable.

So Sam and I sit round and peruse the ‘talent'. And might I say that there is really quite a lot out there this evening. I gulp my beer, noticing out the corner of my eye some women pushing their way towards our table. This could be our lucky night. They're headed right for us, and the blonde one in the blue dress is particularly stunning.

Oh, that would be my assistant.

Let's just ignore that momentary lapse in judgement, okay?

I mean, there's nothing wrong with my assistant, nothing at all, in fact, she's a very attractive woman. However there is the minor tiny little problem - she's my assistant. I really don't want Leo or the President, or indeed CJ to be lecturing me on sexual harassment policies in the White House. No, thank you.

"It really is quite busy tonight," Ainsley helpfully informs us as she sits down beside Sam.

More chance to pull the mission off successfully. However I do think that it would be more helpful if the girls weren't with us. And it would be still more helpful if Donna wasn't sitting close up to me looking quite, well, extremely attractive. Still, I'm on a mission, and I never fail. Donna will not get in my way. Not even in that delectable blue dress that she is wearing.

Anyway, off subject. There are some really very attractive women here and surely one of them would be more than delighted to give me their number. Or maybe more.

"Why don't I go and get you ladies some drinks," Sam offers. Whilst looking at Ainsley. Hmm, he's not going to back down on our mission, is he? I'll have to talk to him later about that one. The girls order their drinks, and I ask Sam for another beer. He wanders off, Ainsley in tow. Apparently to
help him carry the drinks. Hmph. I really think he's going to back down on the mission. For a Republican. Not that she's a bad Republican, in fact she's the nicest one I know, but that doesn't make it all right.

"So where's Toby?" CJ asks.

"He decided he had better things to do than to socialise with us," I explain, not at all bitter. "He's getting too old for the bar scene," I say. Ha, take that Toby.

I drink some more beer. I can sense Donna giving me a disapproving look. I don't care. She's not going to get in my way tonight. Really. I'm a grown man. I can live my own social life without assistance from my assistant. Although if she were to, for example, grab me and kiss me and tell me to abandon the mission, and tell me she's all I need, then, I wouldn't object exactly. CJ might, but if Donna was kissing me, I couldn't really give a damn about CJ. However it's not going to happen. For one reason being that Donna doesn't know about the mission (unless Sam leaked it to her, which
could have happened). And also since, well, it would be inappropriate. So I'm going to continue with my mission and I will succeed.

I'm going to get drunk regardless, however.

Sam and Ainsley return sometime later, however not quickly enough for me to escape the excruciating conversation that Donna and CJ have started about Carol's current boyfriend. Neither of them likes him and they don't want to tell Carol. Apparently he never returns phone calls, rarely spends any time with her since he's busy with his dog training school (what a dork), has never once given her flowers or any gift and just has this weird vibe (which Donna describes as creepy).

Come on, for God's sake, they're grown women, are they not over this by now. In fact, since I've had to listen to all this guy's faults, I might just go tell her tomorrow myself. If it weren't for the fact that tomorrow is Saturday, that is.

Women – who understands them? If I don't like my friend's girlfriend, I'd tell him. Or make fun of him. Either really.

So anyway, Sam and Ainsley return and so CJ and Donna are too preoccupied with their drinks to further the conversation. Or so I thought. However they strike it up again, asking Ainsley's advice (who agrees with the creepy assessment) and even Sam joins in. So I just drink my way quite quickly through the end of my first beer and all the way through the second within about 30 minutes. Which is my problem, really. I'm blaming all the rest of the evening on Carol's creepy boyfriend.

Then I go to the bar again (they're now talking about how much they prefer Jennifer Aniston's new haircut, which Sam only witnessed for the first time the other day) and stand there a while in the queue. I order my third beer of the night, and then get a fourth as well, with two for Sam as there's
an offer on. However I quickly decide that there is no way that I am going to be able to carry four bottles of beer, so one has to be drunk at the bar. So I stand there a while, which is where I meet this very attractive woman whom introduces herself as Carrie. At least I'm assuming that she's attractive, I'm quite drunk at this time. But I don't argue as she flirts with me. And I flirt back. Or try my very best to. I'm not sure I succeed as I'm having some difficulty forming coherent sentences.

Mission Impeccable seems to be working. She has to lean close to me as she speaks as it's very loud and we're having trouble hearing one another. But even as I take in a breath of her almost overwhelming perfume I consider that maybe I want to abandon the mission. The perfume isn't right, for one, and although she seems to be a very nice person, it's just not right. She's just not…Donna. I'm drunk, okay. The whole ignoring Donna's charms doesn't seem to work as well after a couple of beers.

And then Donna herself turns up at the bar, and I know she doesn't see me, but it doesn't matter. I can't help but look at her and completely ignore Carrie as Donna talks and laughs with the barman as she orders her drinks. I'm entranced.

And - I'm blaming this on the alcohol, okay – I can't think of anyone else that I'd rather be with at that moment in time. And I decide to go talk to her. However I'm holding three bottles of beer (the other one got finished, or forgotten about) and Carrie is still leaning into me, and in ignoring her I
walk straight into her and spill copious amounts of alcohol down the front of her top.

Needless to say, she's not impressed. In fact insane, deranged, and psychotic seem to come to mind. Or they would if I were less inebriated. And she decides to make a scene. Right in the middle of the bar, where even the loud chattering of people and music piping up in the background doesn't
seem to be able to cover up the noise.

And when people stop talking to look over at what is happening at the bar (i.e. mad crazy lady yelling obscene things and flinging her arms round in trying to make her point) it doesn't do much for the lack of embarrassment. And so I state my sincerest apologies, and try to slink away, managing to
trip up over her feet (which I am sure she put there on purpose) land on my ass and look like a complete imbecile. Yes, Mission Imbecile has now commenced. Round up, round up: only fifty cents to watch this amazing display of inadequacy.

Really, even in my vaguely alcoholic state, all I'd like to do is curl up in a little ball and let the ground swallow me up. So I curl up in the ball and I pray to the God that I haven't spoken to in years, but he's enjoying himself far too much and so no miracle occurs. Then I look up. Perhaps God has
taken pity on me after all for my guardian angel has arrived.

The crazy lady has gone, and Donna's stood over me. She crouches down and helps me up onto my feet, and it's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me in a long time. She checks I'm okay, grabs the bottles of beer off the floor (amazingly they didn't break, and there's even some beer left in them) and guides me back to the table. Where the others ask what happened.

They'd heard the crazy lady shouting and were wondering what was going on. Especially since the whole bar went silent whilst she was on her rampage.

"Crazy lady," I say eloquently. "Went mad. Scary. Tripped." Yes, the ability to form sentences has been reduced somewhat.

They find this most amusing to find out that the yelling was for my benefit. CJ is slightly more dubious, however. "She's not going to tell the press, is she? Or try to bring a lawsuit for harassment?"

I shake my head. "Didn't tell her my name."

CJ then proceeds to laugh at my expense knowing that her job probably won't be any more stressful because I can't hit on women very well. I have such supportive friends. Donna, however, has pity on me and tells them all to be nicer to me. I'm not sure what she wants.

She puts her arm around me in a supportive act, and I smile just a little too much. I then drink more beer. In fact I even drink the mostly-full bottles that were going to be for Sam. Which is not the best thing to have done, I later decide.

However I'm still with it enough to notice that Sam and Ainsley are quite deep in conversation and ignoring the rest of us. I decide to put an end to this. "You abandoned the mission for a republican." I accuse him.

Sam shoots me an evil look, but hey, at least he was paying attention to the fact that other people were at the table.

"Mission?" Donna asks inquisitively.

"Mission Impossible." I proudly announce, then realise I got it wrong. "Imbecile." I correct, but I'm not sure I got the right word. "Impervious." I change. What the hell was the name of the mission? I've completely forgotten. So much for Sam saying we'd remember when drunk. I can remember the name of his girly named mission. "Mission Impeccable." I finally remember, and shout it out triumphantly, Donna and CJ giving me strange looks, Sam and Ainsley are in their own little world ignoring us.

"Mission impeccable?" Donna queries. Why doesn't she know what I'm saying? I gave up on it for her, surely she should understand.

"The mission." I insist.

"The mission?" CJ asks dubiously. "What might this mission entail?" I think she's humouring me, but I don't care.

"Hit women," I say, slightly ashamed since I don't think CJ will approve and I didn't really want Donna to know. Although I'm sure Sam already told her. Or was that a dream?

CJ gives me a look of, well, I'll tell you when I figure it out.

"Hit women?" she asks, and looks as though she's about to hit me.

"Hit on women." I correct. "Haven't had girlfriend in years." I tell her.

"And you thought the best way to go about it was to hit on women in a bar under the pretence that it was a mission?" CJ does not comprehend obviously.

Donna, well, I don't know about Donna. She's sitting next to me so I can't see her face.

"Yes?" I ask. I'm not sure whether I understand the question.

She then hits me over the head. CJ that is - not Donna. Donna wouldn't do that - she's nice.

"Josh, you idiot." CJ tells me, and I don't get what I've done wrong. Oh well, I probably deserved it. I'm usually doing things wrong without realising.

"Sorry Donna." I say, and I'm not sure why, but I've got to let her know that I stopped for her. "Aborted mission. Scary woman wasn't you." I tell her.

"Umm, thanks Josh." She says and I think she might be upset with me, but I look at her and she's smiling widely at me, so I know everything's okay with us.

CJ just looks at us, before going back to her drink. Sam and Ainsley are still ignoring us, and they're getting awfully close. I want close. They're debating something, but they're both smiling and not being at all argumentative. I think there's something going on there. I ask CJ.

"What's with them?" I ask, pointing at Sam and Ainsley.

CJ doesn't reply, but gives me an almost sympathetic look.

"What's with them?" I ask again, I want to know. No one's telling me anything. I want to know.

"Josh, they're just friends." Donna tells me, smiling, and in a voice that one might use for a child. I don't care. She's being nicer than CJ. I shoot CJ an evil glare just to let her know what I think of her. She ignores me and drinks away.

"That's not friends." I tell Donna in case she doesn't know. I lower my voice to a whisper. "They're trying to be like us." I tell her. I think she understands now. I notice then that her arm is still around me. That makes me happy.

CJ decides then that she wants to go for a bathroom break, and that for some inexplicable reason Ainsley and Donna both have to go with her. Sam looks slightly distraught at this, and I know I feel dismayed. They're leaving us. I don't stop them though, if they have to go to the bathroom, I'm not
going to stand in their way. Or sway in their way. I'm sure I could probably stand. So I try it after the girls leave. I almost fall into Sam's lap. I won't be trying that again for a while.

"What's with you and the republican?" I ask Sam as soon as I manage to sit up again.

Sam looks embarrassed almost. "Nothing." He assures me. "We're just friends."

"That's what Donna said." I say proudly. Although I'm not sure why, because Donna was wrong. "But I think it's more than that. You're trying to be me." I tell him. But I don't think he understands as well as Donna did. I've not got the psychotic thing with Sam that I've got with Donna.

"Josh, how much have you had to drink?" He asks me. He's avoiding the question. And I tell him so.

"What's with you and Ainsley?" I ask again.

"I don't know." He finally admits. "Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Hopefully something, but I'll find out and tell you when I know, okay?"

I smile. That's good. Sam's going to tell me when he figures things out. I ought to tell him something in return for being honest with me.

"Sam." I call to get his attention.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I'll tell you something." I'm not sure what though, yet.

"What?" He asks.

Then I know it. And I whisper loudly to him. "I've got a problem. I think I'm falling in love with my assistant and that can't be good." I tell him. I hope he can help me.

I don't think he knows what to say. He sits there and looks like a fish as he opens his mouth and then closes it again several times.

"It could be good." He says eventually. I don't think he knew exactly what part of my declaration to respond to and I find that amusing. I don't think I'll find any of this amusing in the morning.

Then the girls return, and Sam keeps looking backwards and forwards between Donna and me. Again, this is completely hilarious for reasons not completely understood. Perhaps it's something to do with the five-ish beers that I've drunk.

And then, oh my god, I feel so ill. I sit silent for a while hoping that it'll pass. But it doesn't.

"Donnatella." I call out to everyone. Well, Donna specifically, but if she doesn't hear me hopefully it'll get someone's attention. "Wanna throw up." I tell her as I struggle to get up and run past her. She too stands up, apologises to everyone else for my behaviour, and then guides me to the bathroom.

We only just make it into the stall and my head directed over the bowl before I make good on my promise, and what I am sure is the entire contents of my stomach empties into the toilet.

Although it can't be the entire contents as this is repeated several times.

Donna rubs my back soothingly and tells me that I should have listened to her earlier and not drank so much. Okay, take me back a few hours and I'll willingly do as she says. In fact, I'm never going to drink again; I'll always do what she tells me, as she is wiser than I am.

Keep in mind the five or six beers that I've consumed at this time, please.

After I'm done, we sit there a while, just to make sure I'm not going for a repeat performance, and it occurs to me that one of us is in the wrong bathroom. And as I see women walk by and stare at me, I'm beginning to think it's me. I really should have looked at the sign on the door before entering. Oh well, I'm too drunk and already far too humiliated to actually care about this. I'm not even going to think about what I've done already this evening.

Had crazy lady yell at me in front of hundreds of people.

Am not going to think about it.

Tripped over, landed on my ass, in front of hundreds of people, and probably some republicans.

Not going to think about it.

Told Sam that I thought I was falling for Donna.

Oh dear God, please say he forgets that one. Not going to obsess, not going to obsess.

No, I'm going to throw up instead.

This is not a good night for me.

After about the sixth time, I tell Donna I'm done and then walk over to the wash basins with her help and attempt to make myself look a bit more presentable.

Did you know that throwing cold water over your face (and the floor…) does almost nothing for your appearance but make you look like a drowned rat?

"You look fine." Donna insists, however, so I'll believe her. She wouldn't lie to me.

"Go home?" I ask. She nods, but tells me that first we have to go collect our coats from the table.

We get back to the table to find CJ has gone somewhere and Ainsley and Sam look slightly embarrassed. Donna is trying not to smile and I have no idea why, because I'm still feeling a bit queasy and in addition to that the room isn't staying put, so I've been putting all my concentration into walking. I'll ask Donna later. But for now I'm just going to try and walk without falling over or throwing up again.

I don't remember walking out of the bar, but here I am, standing and waiting for a cab and Donna's with me, holding my coat.

Suddenly, I'm in a taxi, and Donna's climbing in and I'm trying to tell the cab driver where I live, but I don't remember. Well, I do, but I can't actually put it into words. So I tell him "Home." Donna translates, I think. Or did she say her apartment. I don't know - I'm just trying to not throw up in here.

Donna holds me close the whole ride, supporting me as I try to fall left and right as the cab changes direction. But she doesn't let me fall.

And then we're back at my apartment, I'm over the whole ‘throw up' phase, now I'm just really sleepy and keeping my eyes open is a struggle. I think we pay the cab driver (or at least somewhere in the back of my mind I'm hoping we did) and he drives off leaving Donna and I standing on the
sidewalk.

"Do you know where your keys are?" Donna asks, or it could have been ‘do you know how the bees are?' I'm just going to use my superior intellect to deduct that it was the former. I shake my head in an exaggerated motion, slowly left and right, and so Donna has to pat me down until she hears a jingle of the keys. She delves into my coat pocket and removes them, and supports me in my standing position, helping me slowly walk to the door.

We eventually make it in and up the two flights of stairs, and into the apartment. Where I promptly collapse on the bed after Donna prevented me from sitting on the couch. She helps me take off my shoes, jacket, shirt and pants, and then puts me under the covers.

Then she wishes me a goodnight and starts to leave.

"Stay on couch, don't want you on streets." I tiredly mumble my way through.

She hesitates for a second. "As long as it's not so I can hold your hand whilst you throw up some more." She tells me, and I think she's joking, but who knows.

"Not going to throw up. Going to sleep." I tell her.

"Okay then." She agrees sometime later. And starts to leave again.

"Love you." I tell her, and I mean it.

"I'm sure you do." She replies, but I don't think she's being serious.

"I do love you. You're my best friend. Better than Sam. Will always love you." I tell her in my drunken daze, but that doesn't negate what I'm saying.

"I love you too." She tells me, coming closer to me, and kisses me on the forehead. "But tell me when you're sober and I might believe you." She says. And I make a mental promise to her to do just that. She then leaves the room, and I feel a bit lonely. But then I remember what she said, and I
smile as I fall asleep within minutes.

The next morning I wake up with a terrible headache, feeling really ill with a horrible taste in my mouth and an almost insatiable need to drink liquids.

I remember nothing of the night before, and I only hope that I didn't embarrass myself too much, or say anything stupid.

I eventually get out of bed, not even bothering to turn on the lights, and walk into the kitchen where I get myself a glass of water.

I then see the red light on my answering machine flashing, and I realise that I must have completely slept through the phone's ringing. I press the grey button and wait until the messages begin.

"Hey Josh - its Sam. Just calling to see how you are. Hope you're not too hung-over. I don't know how much of last night you remember, but *cough* nothing happened okay? And if you recollect anything, I wrote down what you told me. Just to let you know. Maybe I'll see you later. Okay, bye."

"Josh? It's Donna. You should be up by now. Josh? JOSHUA? Get up! You better be up soon. Sorry I didn't tell you when I was going, but you were fast asleep. Okay, you really should be at work soon. I'll see you later."

"The woman hasn't told the papers, you'll be happy to know. Hope your hangover is very painful. I'll be talking to you later."

And I'm left wondering, what the hell did I tell Sam, why was Donna leaving my place earlier, and who in the hell would be wanting to tell the
newspapers about me.

I don't think the mission was successful, either.

Oh well, maybe I'll have better luck next time. And I hope to God that someone tells me what I was up to last night.

Although I'm not so sure I really want to know.

[mission: impeccable 2]

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