Annual Office Christmas Party Oscars

Roll out the red carpet, guys! It’s time to salute the annual Christmas party patrons. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, “discussing” how they played their role in the annual company throw-down is always a special treat. Here are the Christmas Party Oscar nominees:

The Fun Guy. This is the guy that everybody wants to be around. People fight each other to sit by this guy. No doubt – this will be the fun table. This is where the hot chicks will be.

The Shy Girl. This is the girl who never speaks to anyone at work. She eats lunch at her desk every day, and always declines social events. She does not drive to work – she takes public transportation. Her boss is forcing her to attend the Christmas party – her bonus is contingent upon it. After a few glasses of wine, her skirt is over her head displaying her thong underwear. She has a tattoo on her butt. That is when you find out that she is in AA and is on parole. She is no longer shy and awkward. She is cool.

The Drunk Guy. This is the guy who shows up at the party with 200 Jell-O shooters. It is his mission to get Ethel the secretary, and Marge the receptionist drunk off their asses. He wants to see those orthopedic shoes come off, and those arthritic feet hit the dance floor. He is surrounded by a crowd at the bar. He is doing body shots off of Tiffany, the 22 year old new girl in Marketing.

The Secret Society. This is the group who meets at an undisclosed location before the party begins. These are the cool people. They speak in code language and send secret e-mails the week before the party. No one can find out about their secret plans. They meet to drink, be merry, and predict how the evening will go down. They are the brat pack.

The Person Who Doesn’t Show. This poor soul. By the end of the party, everyone has him/her divorcing, destitute, in jail, a drug addict, a sex offender, a porn star, recovering from liposuction, a prostitute. They should have just made an appearance!

The Office Ho. She works for the company president. How do you think she got that job? She is wearing the latest Fredericks of Hollywood fashion. Complete with 5 inch hooker shoes and fish-net hose. They end up ripped before the night is over because she fell off of the table she was dancing on. One of her fake fingernails is missing also.

The Annoying Guy. This person has tried, unsuccessfully, for years to get into the secret society. People can’t stand to be around him. He shows up without a date because he wants to leave his options open. He pumped iron for 5 hours prior to the party so his biceps would look good in his new tight satin shirt. He thinks he’ll get lucky with the new girl in accounting, but ends up driving Office Ho home. On Monday, he walks door to door assuring people that he did not touch that scank.

The Elves. These are the ladies of the office who think it would be great to play games and give door prizes. You can thank them for the 4 foot tall stuffed Santa, the porcelain angel, the snowman that plays Jingle Bells, and the fruit cake. At the end of the night, Drunk Guy has Santa in a headlock as he stumbles to the car. So much for that $40 bucks.

Why I had to Quit My Favorite Taco Bell

I’m devastated by all of the recent Taco Bell news. My people know that I love Taco Bell. If I could own one in my back yard, I would. Then I’d just lock the door to the public, barricade myself inside, and eat all of the food by myself. I’d come out weighing 400 pounds, but I’d have enjoyed every minute of it. Taco Bell was the single source that turned me back into a carnivore after my 8 year hiatus as a vegetarian. A story for another day.

So all of this “Toxic Taco” talk reminded me of the time when I had to quit my favorite Taco Bell. In hindsight, the first tell-tale sign that I was turning into a Mexican was when I started to pull away from the drive through and the guy working said “Bye bye, see you tomorrow.” Yeah, so he was starting to get to know me. We were becoming friends. Big deal.

The day that we became instant foes went down like this:
I drove up, placed my order, pulled up to pay and get my goods. My guy says “You know, every day when you come through here I recognize that you remind me of someone, but I can never place who it is. Yesterday it hit me. Do you know who you look exactly like?” The young, 20-something me (this was a long time ago guys!) is just sitting there smiling naively and blinking. And, I replied “No, who???” The answer was the equivalent of shock and awe, or better yet, the equivalent of missing out on the Macy’s annual shoe sale. It was Hillary Clinton. Big deep breath. This is still so painful to me. Let me get a tissue, please.

HUH? So, obviously I didn’t know what to say. All I remember is that it got really hot in that car, and my skin started to itch. And I started to scratch. The look on my face must have said it all because he then followed with “I hope I didn’t offend you by saying that, she is a very powerful woman.” Still blinking. Scratching. Blinking. Scratching. Blinking. Blinking. Blinking. Blinking. Put car in drive. Drove away. Never looked back. Never looked back once guys, but scarred forever.

The Christmas Tree – Men vs. Women

It’s that time of year again. Time to knock the dust off of the Christmas decorations and get down with the decorating of the Christmas tree. I love Christmas. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year to me. I love the lights, the smell of the tree, the competition with the neighbors over the gaudiest outdoor lights…. and over who can get theirs up the quickest on the day after Thanksgiving.

When we started putting up our tree this year, I had to laugh over the man vs. woman idea of how the Christmas tree should be decorated.

Women: (On a fake tree.) Each branch – and I mean all 500 must be strategically pulled and stretched so that there are no holes and no funky-looking protrusions.

Men: Take the thing out of the box, stick it in the stand. Stand back. It looks beautiful.

Women: Must have all white lights. Must have fourteen tons of them. Must all blink or none blink. Can’t be a combination of both. Each strand must be pre-measured and placed so that the entire tree is covered – but no cords are showing.

Men: Must have colored lights. Need only one strand. The entire tree does not need to be covered as long as they all work. Blinking or non-blinking is of no importance. Can run an extension cord from the top of the tree, down the front middle, across the bottom to the electrical outlet. Stand back. It looks beautiful.

Women: Must have all matching decorations. They can be old world, Victorian, crystal, whatever, but no combination. They must be color coordinated. They must be carefully placed so that no two balls are in direct relation to one another.

Men: The more Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith, and Tony Romo ornaments that can go on the front of the tree – the better. It doesn’t matter. Cowboys rule, and let’s get this over with before the game starts. Stand back. It looks beautiful.

Women: The angel goes on last. It is the piece de resistance. Let the children put it up there. Hold them and pose while I take a picture.

Men: Stick a popcorn ball up there for all I care. If I miss the game – I’m gonna be pissed. Picture or no picture, angel or no angel. Stand back. It looks beautiful.

Women: The lighting of the tree happens last. This happens five hours later – after everything is in its proper place. This is for effect. Stand back and enjoy it.

Men: Light the tree as soon as the lights are on it. This will help me to keep up with my beer.