Or maybe not. Most people I know aren’t jolly this time of year. In fact, they are downright stressed out and bitchy. The exception to the rule being my favorite coffee shop who gave me some brandy chocolates to thank me for being such a great customer. What a great group of people! Eat that Charbucks!
This time of year I find myself getting depressed. Everyone else is going off to office parties. My wife, in fact, is attending what I believe is her office’s thirtieth holiday party of the year. They get cheese and pastries and more cheese.
I work alone. In my basement. I don’t get an office party. I considered dropping by a local office and pretending to be one of the IT guys, but was afraid I’d get busted right as I was dipping my chip into the nacho cheese.
So, I’ve decided to throw my own office party. Starring: Me.
It starts at three this afternoon with a rousing game of charades. At 3:30 we’ll trot out the margaritas, the Holiday drink of choice. By 5:00 we’ll be toasting a happy non-descript, non-religious, non-denominational, inoffensive Holiday of Your Choice to everyone.
At 5:30, after having consumed 13 margaritas, I will meet myself in my supply closet and touch myself inappropriately.
At 6 p.m. I’ll report myself for harassment and fire myself tomorrow morning.
Just like every other company, we’ll be having holiday layoffs.
I’ll promptly hire myself back on Wednesday as a consultant, charging offensively high rates but happy that I won’t have to give myself benefits.
Merry whatever you celebrate!
Happy New Year!
Unless you’re Chinese. Then I’m either too late or too early. Damn!
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