Thursday, December 01, 2005
We All Know You Love The Holidays
Dear Co-Worker,
You might think that it was when you began decorating your office on the first work day after Thanksgiving. But even then, most of us were thinking "oh...she just wants to brighten up the place" or "early bird gets the worm" or some other stupid-ass cliche.
You might even think that it was when you stepped it up to wearing red and green every day beginning November 28th, or when you sent an email around to get everyone together to pick their "secret santa" that we all of the sudden had a V8 moment and thought "Damn...this woman LOVES THE FUCKING HOLIDAYS!"
But you'd be wrong. And the reason you'd be wrong is this: ALMOST EVERYONE LOVES THE HOLIDAYS. You don't have to prove it to anyone, it's just a fucking fact.
So that's why I personally feel it was unnecessary for you to do the following:
1) Must you play that fucking christmas music all fucking day long? Must it be turned up so loud that you'd be able to hear it over a jet engine. Must I have to knock on your wall when I'm on the phone with a client to get you to turn it down?
2) Is it really necessary to remind me (every single day, no less) how many days are left until Christmas? I do, in fact, own a calendar. And, last time I checked, Christmas was clearly marked as December 25th. Also, I've been a pretty strong "counter" since I was a little boy. Believe me, I can do the math to figure out how many days without your assistance.
3) While I do enjoy chocolates, I don't want to find them on my chair. Especially when the discovery takes place AFTER I SIT DOWN! Do you think Santa will put a new pair of pants under my tree this year? Your ass is mine if people around here take to calling me "skid mark."
All I can think about, though, is your smarmy little worm of a husband and how he must dread this time of year. Seeing that bubbly enthusiasm ripple across your chunky chipmunk-like face must drive that poor man to homicidal ideations. I mean, I only deal with you during the work week and I'm pretty much close to killing you every other Wednesday...but to spend my entire life with you?
Jesus, that poor man.
Maybe Santa will bring him a shotgun.
|
You might think that it was when you began decorating your office on the first work day after Thanksgiving. But even then, most of us were thinking "oh...she just wants to brighten up the place" or "early bird gets the worm" or some other stupid-ass cliche.
You might even think that it was when you stepped it up to wearing red and green every day beginning November 28th, or when you sent an email around to get everyone together to pick their "secret santa" that we all of the sudden had a V8 moment and thought "Damn...this woman LOVES THE FUCKING HOLIDAYS!"
But you'd be wrong. And the reason you'd be wrong is this: ALMOST EVERYONE LOVES THE HOLIDAYS. You don't have to prove it to anyone, it's just a fucking fact.
So that's why I personally feel it was unnecessary for you to do the following:
1) Must you play that fucking christmas music all fucking day long? Must it be turned up so loud that you'd be able to hear it over a jet engine. Must I have to knock on your wall when I'm on the phone with a client to get you to turn it down?
2) Is it really necessary to remind me (every single day, no less) how many days are left until Christmas? I do, in fact, own a calendar. And, last time I checked, Christmas was clearly marked as December 25th. Also, I've been a pretty strong "counter" since I was a little boy. Believe me, I can do the math to figure out how many days without your assistance.
3) While I do enjoy chocolates, I don't want to find them on my chair. Especially when the discovery takes place AFTER I SIT DOWN! Do you think Santa will put a new pair of pants under my tree this year? Your ass is mine if people around here take to calling me "skid mark."
All I can think about, though, is your smarmy little worm of a husband and how he must dread this time of year. Seeing that bubbly enthusiasm ripple across your chunky chipmunk-like face must drive that poor man to homicidal ideations. I mean, I only deal with you during the work week and I'm pretty much close to killing you every other Wednesday...but to spend my entire life with you?
Jesus, that poor man.
Maybe Santa will bring him a shotgun.
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