Party of One

I am unemployed. I have no boss except for….me. I report to myself, set my own hours, take breaks when I want to, eat lunch when I want to, answer the phone when I want to, and clean the toilet if the mood strikes me, (which is not often). I have two co-workers. They are hairy with saggy jowls and bad breath. That however does not distinguish them from previous co-workers I’ve had in corporate America.

I am the CEO, CIO, CFO and of course M-O-M. I am also the sole guest at the… office Christmas Party.

My Christmas Party is just that. Christmas. It’s not a “Holiday Festival”, “Seasonal Celebration”, “Winter Gathering” or any other asinine politically correct name for a merry-making event celebrating the birth of Jesus. It’s a freaking Christmas Party.

Let’s get this party started by decking the “halls”.

My company, as most companies do, banned appliances big or small, lamps, electric staplers, radios, and the like. This was not an issue for me until I wanted to bring in my 30-cup coffeemaker and become the office barista.

Fire hazard? Please. Like my cell phone charger was going to spontaneously combust.

And Christmas lights? Forget it. Wanting to truly buck the system I shall opt to violate every standard OSHA has in place for workplace safety. Open flames everywhere. Candles, kerosene lamps, and flood lights marked for “outdoor use only” will grace and illuminate my party.

Tiki torch anyone??

Now, what to wear? Being my rebel self, I suppose I should go for the completely inappropriate office party attire. I shall don a blouse with a plunging neckline, a micro-mini skirt ala Paris Hilton, and stiletto heels. Now where did I put those fishnet stockings…

Actually, I own none of these. Sorry honey.

I’ll just wear….jammies! Yes! Elastic-waisted jammies and my running shoes which should make for easy maneuvering around the buffet table…

Now then, on to the menu. Office party food usually consists of say, sliced ham, buns, pasta salad, and a fabricated sorry ass excuse for a cheesecake. BOOOORING! Not this party, oh no sir-ree! I’ve come up with a delightful menu sure to please anyone who has longed for an all alcohol-laden meal at work:

Stuffed Meatballs with Vodka Sauce
Spinach Salad Flambé w/Bacon and Brandy Dressing
Beer Bread Buns

And for dessert:
Fuzzy Navel Upside Down Cake (boy, if that doesn’t conger up a good “morning after” story, I don’t know what will…)

There will of course be an open bar, tips accepted, and since I work in my own home, sober cab is not necessary. Yeah me! And for my narcoleptic
co-workers? Red Bull and Tic-Tacs.

Let’s move on to music. For everyone’s entertainment, I shall dance on the table in an inappropriate way (because I can) to the likes of “O Holy Night” and “Away in a Manger”. (Probably should’ve skipped the second helping of Flambé…) There will be no PC “Jingle Bells” or “Frosty the Snowman”. I’m giddy with political incorrectness! (It’s that, or the fact that I’m on White Russian #3….) We’re gonna get a little Jesus/Mary/Joseph action going on here. I shall sing of Angels I Have Heard On High, and Silent Nights (which I’ll be having later after I pass out…) Religion fills the air! And I will not even be banned to diversity training! PRAISE JESUS! (Ooops, there I go again!!)

And as long as I’m on the subject of Christmas ditties, I’ve got some news for the Twin Cities radio stations: Karen Carpenter and Elvis are dead…. Move ON!

After a few more hot toddies, being kept warm I might add by 5 roaring sterno cans, I decide on one more dance and call it a day. (A day that is, for it is not yet 3pm…). I lose my groove after falling flat on my face from the kitchen stool, another spot from which I chose to buck the system and dance inappropriately at this, my version of the office Christmas Party. Damn. As I come to, I get wind of the Red Bull Mint Cosmo they’ve whipped up for themselves… “Beloved” co-worker is licking my head, not to help me regain consciousness, but because I have remnants of Fuzzy Navel Upside Down Cake in my hair. A good story indeed!

Ok, now it’s REALLY time to call it a day.

As I extinguish the 47 sources of open flames and drag myself up the stairs for a quick nap before school lets out, I look back on my party escapades and am pleased. What could be better than a completely unorthodoxed office CHRISTMAS Party done my way?? (Besides
co-workers that don’t, er… sniff each other’s butts?)

Oh I don’t know, a REAL job maybe??

;-)

Merry Christmas Everyone!