Friday, December 14, 2007

Why office holiday parties are generally dangerous and specifically sticky

We had our office holiday party today (which is of course a Christmas party that no one calls a Christmas party). I volunteered to bring flan, and so this morning slung my canvas bag over my shoulder with a big casserole of yumminess inside. It wasn't long before a little twitch in Sector 15-D of my brain was telling me that something wet was touching me, but since the luxuries of civilization have softened me and allowed me to disregard section 15-D of my brain, I did. Unfortunately, when I got off the subway I realized I had about 50 square inches of caramel syrup clinging to my pants, which were in turn clinging to my hip. The stuff had soaked through the canvas bag, my lined wool coat, and onto my vulnerable hip. The only solution was, once I got to work, to wash the pants. This meant standing at the bathroom sink in my coat, with no pants on, rinsing them out. I think I startled the woman who saw me wearing pants when I first walked in, and then not wearing pants when she exited the bathroom stall. Oh well. It wasn't worth explaining. ("Yeah, I got flan on my pants.")

Then, the holiday party itself kicked off about four hours later, when our division decided we couldn't wait any longer, turned up the music and dug into the food and beers. It seems our office leadership soon followed, as ruddy cheeks and bad jokes were evident in spades. Nothing like drinking beer at 11:30 in the morning with your office mates. Fortunately, no body got caught making photocopies of their bums, but there was this one drunk guy who ...

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Princess Nijma

Princess Nijma