I went to my first holiday party on Friday.
When I look at old Christmas movies, holiday parties seemed catered, the boss seems to have a secretary on his lap, and everyone is drinking some type of spirits. That's not really how my holiday parties are – oh, any my parties are in vibrant colors, not black-white-and-grays.
Oh, and I am not bashing black-white-and-grays. They are classic colors, and these colors can move one to tears (It’s A Wonderful Life), one to laughter (The Bishop's Wife), and one to confusion (The Horn Blows at Midnight). Okay, I have never seen The Horn Blows at Midnight, but since it is about big band trumpeter who falls asleep and dreams he is an archangel, sent to destroy earth, I figure it would confuse the heck out of me.
I wanted to say a few things about holiday parties.
Most of the holiday parties I am involved in are potluck, which is German for "bring too much damn food." If you think about it, you should just bring as much as food as you can eat, because if everybody brings what they can eat, then there would be no wasted food. Okay, bad suggestion because some people bring unpopular foods. Those people should volunteer to pick up something at a bakery.
Most of the food at a potluck is (1) high fat, (2) contains cheese, and (3) contains mayonnaise. What bothers me is that, at least at my parties, there are no fresh veggies, no other healthy alternatives – not just to snack on, but to cut the fat on the other goodies.
Oh, I also want to just suggest that if something is loaded with calories, it needs to taste wonderful. That means, please leave the partially hydrogenated cookies at home, or at least mark them so I can avoid them. If I am going to have to spend an extra two hours on a Stairmaster®, I want it to be for some wholesome, mouth-watering fat.
You know, I am not really interested in my company's potluck. I mean, I see these people all year long, and I don't want to think of what to say, to engage in small talk.
I sort of enjoy small talk at other people's work. By other people, I mean my husband, but it would be cool to just crash a party. Can you imagine crashing a party with the following?
Leesa: Holy crap, where is my husband. He is gone.
Woman: Who would that be?
Leesa: You know him. He is the only man who is not here.
Woman: Oh, you mean Fred.
Leesa: (thinking to self, poor Fred, you missed the party) Has he screwed you yet? That SOB.
Woman: Fred is sixty-something years old. You can't be forty.
Leesa: And yet we are married.
Woman: Oh, I had no idea.
Leesa: I ask again, has he nailed you yet?
Leesa: Has he fucked you?
Woman: I think not. I am his boss.
Leesa: That has never stopped him before.
Then I walk off.
You see, I can't make a scene at work. It is frowned on.
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