You know some days I think I have my shit together, and then it turns out that actually I really don't and its just the same thing on repeat... daily. My mum has a saying (actually she has many) that is loosely translated as "why would you pick up the same shitty stick and beat yourself with it?" Actually before I continue with that vein of thought I have to say that of all my mothers Mantra's which as I have got older have included more and more profanities and less and less sense, that I quite like the stick analogy, or at least in theory. Numerous amounts of time I have tried to explain that I don't intentionally pick up the "shitty stick" and after 33 years you think she would know this, it's JUST MY LIFE!
Today was the day of the office party, which I wasn't overly looking forward to, since as a bring and share lunch it involves a whole lot of office politics which mainly I have managed to avoid. It starts with who provided what and where they got it from, expanding into "oh look she got hers from supermarket can you beleive she shops there?", to the domestic goddess who spent 6 weeks cooking and baking just so that she can be a martyr without even touching on the "who brought the supermarket basic?" (and everyone looking at me). Then when you get through that avalanche barely escaping with your soul (if I had one) in tact you have to deal with the gluten free, the atkins diet, the picky and fussy, the only eating pickled onions, food touchers anonymous (okay fine me) the veggie and the only eating foods by colour. Nightmare! Also being guaranteed to be a day in which everyone turned up, I had to endure the ritual of fighting for a desk and then ended up with the poxy one that puts me with my back to the boss and self appointed nosey admin lady. In short a complete waste of actually washing my face before I left the house. So I'm being all industrious like you do when your opposite the boss and the admin and being all grown up and mature, when I decide that enoughs enough and I need to go for a fag. Now a normal person gets their fags and lighter and leaves the office, but no. Foolishly I forgot that my bra was in my bag; do not panic people I was also wearing one, explanation for bra in bag is that I left it at a friends (not that kind of friend!) who kindly returned said bra and I shoved it in my handbag and forgot about it. As I was reaching for my fags, said bra (which since I had forgotten about surprised me) came out of my bag and got all entangled in the straps of my bag. So as if that wasn't embarrassing enough I spent about 3 minutes attempting to disengage it from said straps, which is when it decides to get a life of it's own and actually pinged (if it had been a cartoon or a batman episode there would have been a ping noise or ping caption) off the bag over my head and on my bosses desk. THERE IS NO EXPLANATION for that ever! I had up until that point managed to have had the only boss that I have worked for and not shown my underwear in some kind of fashion. Also I do not have the kind of boss that I have experienced previously, so was not sure how to guage his reaction when he picked it up with a pencil (like you know my bra might be radioactive or something) sniffed and waved it in my general direction. How he knew it was mine in the first place is an entire conversation in its own right, but I did the only thing I could which was to flush bright red, stuff it into my bag and rush out for 3 consecutive fags. To say that I am relieved that he is now off on annual leave for three whole weeks is putting it mildly.
Then it was the great office party and as predicted it mainly involved me sitting in the corner and sulking since the natural clicks formed and gossiped while waving around food stuffs on sticks. I am not usually anti social by nature I actually really like people but for some reason (possibly my own fault) I just do not and have not fit in this team and I stick out like a sore thumb, I'm also crap at forced frivolity in December. Then my other boss decided that if it was a party we had to play chinese whispers... which I also suck at, this is mainly due to my paranoia about the fact I had just eaten the best part of a jar of pickled gherkins (really need to kick this pickle problem, eating them or smelling of them or both) which meant my whispers were going to be gross, the fact that I can only actually stage whisper (I'm a loud person I can't help it) and the the whole ear problems which looks like I'm growing a potato and carrot field in there that the whisperer was probably revolted at the idea of having to share anything with my ear drums. After a few rounds of this in which I just made stuff up because I was conviently sat between the timid and quietest person in the office as well as the office guffawer (I would have said giggler but she just guffaws.. about everything) the boss then decided that we should all play naked twister. Don't panic it didn't happen, mainly because it's probably a sack-able offence, people would have paid me to keep my clothes on and I don't think anyone could agree on the rules. Secret santa's were given out and I didn't get to gauge the reaction to my gift as I was to far away. I got chocolate which you kind of can't complain about but also it screams I don't know anything about you. Then our boss who actually is kind of lovely (not the bra one, the naked twister one) announced that we all had to come and stick our hands in her sack, which for me produced a packet of fruit pastilles. Once the shenanigans was over I am happy to report that my secret santa gift went down well. I only know this because my giftee who sits with her back to me was showing the girls and making insanely nice comments about how every year she gets shit because no one actually bothers, and this is the first year someone thought about her and how touched she was. Did have an ego inflation at this because actually mum chose the gift and I know nothing about her either. Then sat and thought about what I would have done if she was moaning that it was shit!
Hubby is away at work's party so has left me and the mother unsupervised. Mum insisted in a last minute panic that we make cards and envelopes which naturally resulted in us testing the home made alcohol. This then led to making offensive greetings for people that we never got to say what we were really feeling. So far this has led to such greetings as:
"Sorry I left your son, can I have my house back?"
"I know we haven't spoken in years, but your getting old, now's the time to write me in your will"
"Screw your new wife, I'm still the hot one"
"I couldn't be arsed to make an actual card so I stuck some shit on here"
"Let it snow many presents... where are mine?"
"Sorry you forgot my birthday, you know on the same date of every year, maybe Jesus' birthday will jog your memory"
"I don't like you here's a crappy piece of card"
We took an eastenders break and now are off to make more cards...
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