work play

Today was my work's Christmas party. And it has everything to do with why I like my job, even when I'm need deep in the fucking useless freaky-deaky Plone database some smart-apple techie stuck us with. Motherfucker.

But that's fodder for another post.

So, why my job is great. By the time I left that party, I had signed on to collect recipes for the CCTC-PTCC Potluck Cookbook Zine, I was full of booze and good food (that ginger glazed ham! the mushroom pie! o delicious red wine), and my face hurt from laughing so much.

And I get to put order to a thin slice of a crazy crazy world.

Anyway, the party was fun. We did one of those gift exchanges where you can either open a present or steal someone else's. I'd taken a venus envy gift certificate, which surprised the lesbian in the room (your best guess too). I thought it'd be a hot ticket, but no one really went for it. It got selected for one of the two women in the room least likely to ever darken the doors of venus envy. And no one stole it. Aie, I was cringing. I doubt it will ever be redeemed, though she seemed a little interested when I told her there are also lots of soap and bath products. Not just smarmy dirty sex toys. She and I are very different.

Anyway, this aft was a nice balm to my PMR fuck-up of the week. I hadn't read the instructions carefully and was trying to organize crash spaces for the crew going on the tour. Not my job, as it turns out. And apparently a lot of the stops got fucked up that way. So I got a righteously angry email from one crewmember. Pow, right in the kisser. Left me feeling a little demoralized and incompetent.

But then I got to ogle a lovely young coworker all afternoon, as he sprawled out on his side in front of the fire. He's young and makes me feel like a dirty old lady.
In a good way.

This evening will be topped off by a late late beer at the Aloha. I pick the Beard up at midnight. Here's hoping I don't end up asleep at the bar, schnozz in beer.