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2001-11-19 11:05 p.m. You know that old holiday saying, "I don't give a fuck about the party, just throw something together and tell me where to show up"? No? Oh, maybe because I just made it up. Usually, my company (motto: "No, ModernEconomy, we don't have any excess income. And if we did, it certainly wouldn't be hidden under....no wait, that's ours! Where are you taking that? Are we ever gonna.... D'oh!") throws a big holiday party. We're talking ballrooms rented, suits pressed, wine imbibed, sex in public places. Not me, I'm just sayin'. But this year, you know, the economy is about as attractive as Donald Rumsfeld in drag. So cuts have to be made. What was one of the first to go? You guessed it. The holiday party. (the second to go? your paycheck!) In it's place, we're having departmental lunches (or potlucks, or cocktail hours, or whatever) to keep the holiday spirit alive. And by 'spirit' I really mean 'joy of not being at our desks.' All this to say, I think our admin is seriously overplanning our departmental party. At first I offered suggestions as to what I thought were good ideas on food, drinks, and locations. 'Cause I have a vested interest in the success of this party. Or rather, my stomach and sobriety level do. But then I noticed that she was clearing every little detail that anyone would offer with everybody else. At this rate she'll be right on time - if she's planning the party for mid-December 2008. So, seriously, shut up and make some decisions on your own. You're never gonna please everyone. But for the love of God, make sure there's crab dip. Y'know, it seems like lately all I've been doing is complaining about things. And that's not really fair to me, becuase I'm not really in an overall bad mood. It just tends to surface when I'm here. So, now I think I'll focus on the positive. Hmmmm..... You know what I love? Eating my lunch in the park. I do. The trees still have their fall-colored leaves, the breeze blows perfectly through my car windows, and it's a good place to take a lunchtime power nap. Sure, I'm not the only one that knows about it. There's the car full of mechanics who (every day) split a 12 pack of Shlitz. What's that all about? Who do they work for? I ought to find out and say something. I'm sure being drunk on the job is some kind of OSHA violation. Seriously, have they no respect for the rules? Then there's the guy that hits his golf balls on the baseball diamond. Hey buddy, newsflash - you suck! The ball is meant to be hit. Not missed and cursed at. Be the ball, Danny. And then there's the guy that parks two spaces over from me and gives me dirty looks the whole time. What was this, your park first? All I see on the sign is Jessup Community Park, not Obsessive Asshole Community Park. I'm here to stay, chief. Let it go. And another thing, there are 30 goddam parking spaces here, why park right the fuck next to me. Back off. No, seriously, Back up off me or I will clock you in your latterday-Kojak-wannabe face. Shit, I'm no good at this positive crap. Charmcity. Cranky. Love me. leave me a note, fool! | |
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