Co-Workers Gone Wild

I've just discovered perhaps the greatest invention in the history of snackfoods. Ritz Bits S'mores. Little bite-sized bits of manna from heaven: marshmallow and chocolate-like filling stuck between two tiny graham cracker cookies. I have just eaten the whole box in a single sitting. I'm slightly hung-over.

My crapulence results from last night's company holiday party. Now, the company holiday party is an interesting phenomenon. It serves as a sort of release from the daily work environment, a chance to socialize and let loose, get dressed up, drink excessively and so on. Yet the fact remains that these are all people you work with, or worse, work FOR, and you still have to face everyone on Monday, so it's really not such a release at all so much as a unique new workplace torture: an opportunity to make an ass of yourself (or to watch others do so) and spend the weekend regretful and anxious about Monday morning coffee in the breakroom.

But, highlights did include a complete collection of Degas sculptures; large slabs of roastbeef but a complete absence of knives, forcing people to stuff entire chunks of meat into their mouths and hope someone didn't choose that moment to introduce the wife, which they inevitably did; the museum's complete underestimation of my co-workers' ability to consume massive amounts of free booze and the near riots when the red wine, vodka, and beers had all run out; and a DJ who played a little too much Michael Jackson.