For the Sixth Rant of Christmas, TB Gave to Me….

Quote of the Day:

Unbelievable. I do the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for these people and they freak-out. Well happy birthday Jesus, sorry your party’s so lame.” –Michael Scott (The Office)

SIX Christmas Parties.

Doesn’t anyone have better things to do? “Hi, GREAT to see you. Yes, things are GREAT. Sure, business is GREAT…..uh huh, family’s GREAT….you too I hope? GREAT. See you next year.”

“Oh, hi. GREAT to see you too….etc, etc.”

Except it’s not GREAT to see any of ’em and they sure as hell didn’t score a point in the game of life as a result of the forced chance encounter with TB. Why must we do these things? The spouse’s office party, the next door office’s office party, the neighbor, school, church, the office-you-hate-but-you-still-have-to-go-because-they-are-a-client-office party….enough is enough! We don’t want ’em, we don’t need ’em, GO AWAY!

Oh, sure, as with anything a Christmas Party can occasionally have its moments, like back in the late 90’s when TB’s ass (allegedly) got photocopied right before–yada yada yada–but you can’t recapture that magic, especially after you get married. If you must have a  party, do it ONCE, blow it out, make errors in judgement that can be collectively “forgotten” by acclimation but if you try to make it an annual event it gets harder and harder each year for everyone to forget the vile acts of revelry committed by others, even harder to forget one’s own. Memory leads to fear. Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to….a miserable month of annual Christmas parties.

Hell yes I need a drink! But I need it on my on schedule, at my own pace, among my chosen company. I don’t want to be standing next to an artificial tree loaded down with meaningless trinkets purchased on deep discount at Walmart some long ago December 28, discussing “how business is” and the price of gold with Phil from down the hall, holding a miniature plate in one hand overloaded with cold chicken wings and faux crab dip and some rotel that can’t be scooped by the six chips–whoops five, one fell off–and a watered down punch in the other while trying to hold my elbows in close so they don’t bump in to drunk, old-ass, prowlin’ Barb’s enormous breasts as she trolls through the throng, all the while averting eye contact with Sally Slutes who dresses in Christmas sweaters with lambs and has a “keep the Christ in Christmas” bumper sticker on her used Land Rover but after a couple of punches starts thinking she’s still single and its still 1997 and she still looks like she did then and that havin’ a big time in the copier room is the true meaning of Christmas parties.

Nah, skip it and just give us a $20.00 bonus in lieu of the fellowship. It might not mean much to you boss-man but it sure as hell would take a bit of the sting out of getting screwed over by the Acme Slutty Toy Corp and their crack customer service guy–Ahmed, or Bill or Sue; if nothing else I could go sit in a dark lounge somewhere and have a drink–a real drink–in peace. Ahhh, peace on Earth, goodwill toward men. Yep, I’m a lot more likely to find it in there….

…FIVE. GOLD. ADS. FOUR freakin’ stitches, THREE triple aaa’s, TWO billing errors and  a Lounge in a Mall ain’t no Lounge.

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About travellinbaen

I'm a 40 year old lawyer living in Ridgeland, Mississippi. I'm several years and a couple hundred miles removed from most of my old running buddies so I started the blog to provide an outlet for many of the observations and ideas that used to be the subjects of our late night/happy hour/halftime conversations and arguments.
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3 Responses to For the Sixth Rant of Christmas, TB Gave to Me….

  1. Jessie Lou says:

    Now that was entertaining – just read it to my office mate. We just had our Christmas party on Friday night at Mary Mahoney’s – it was a good time although my husband announced that I don’t like to wear clothes at home! According to my good friend that was alright because everyone already knew that except I do not think my bigger boss did. I recovered nicely and told them it was due to my Caymanian roots that I do not care to be dressed all the time and why I am almost always barefoot in the office. After 21 years that is not too large an admission I guess – just sounds bad at the time after several glasses of wine that you cannot count because someone is constantly there to refill it. Then at 3am you wake up and wonder, in fear, just what did you say to so-in-so’s husband that made him laugh out loud and hug you. YIKES!

    I can say I’ve never had my rear photocopied at any party~! I have heard of another much older, well known lawyer here in town who did.

  2. irvineredd says:

    In honor of my impeding arrival in my home state: FYI, NSFW

  3. Harmony says:

    I, absolutely hate boring, stuffy, snooty, faked intrigue, whisper inducing Christmas parties! Every year, my sister and I, have a Pre-Christmas party where we let the “wild rumpus begin”. Bruising, a popped inflatable Snowman, a broken banister, hidden penguins, Inception and 20 tacos later suggested a successful Pre-Christmas this year. I seriously need an adjustment.

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