Hello strangers, have you missed me? Well you know they always say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’ve missed you if that’s any consolation, I’ve missed the blog, the ranting, the moaning the gossip and scandal...oh stop, I’m welling up....
Would you be shocked if I told you that it has been work stopping me from my beloved blogging? Yes work. That’s what’s been keeping us apart, eating away at the hours in the day until suddenly it’s gone 5pm and I’ve yet to put fingers to keyboard and update you with the latest from Losing their
It’s been over a week since I last blogged and I think holidays aside that’s the longest I’ve ever gone since I started this. I can only offer my sincerest apologies and pray that it doesn’t happen again. I make no promises though as at the moment it’s rather manic in the world of contracts to say the least. This always happens at Christmas, people suddenly realise they really need that bit of equipment they were thinking about buying 8 months back and now it’s URGENT. I’ve had that word pop up a lot in emails, along with that little red exclamation mark people tag on to their Outlook messages. How can everything be urgent? Really? You mean those 24 emails I came into this morning? All but 3 were urgent? I think maybe in my world they are not – annoying yes, tedious yes, making me stay late at work again yes, but urgent no. I don’t think that society will fall or a small child will die if I don’t get this done before COB tomorrow. Someone might get a bit annoyed and call me up asking pointed questions about their urgent email they sent me the morning before and why I hadn’t realised just how urgent it was but no one will lose a limb or close a hospital.
Oh I’m sorry, and here was me sat here making origami swans and catching up on-line for the latest Home and Away gossip because I was at such a loose end. Its fine, I have nothing better to do.
The other thing that doesn’t help (and I REALLY never thought I would hear myself say this) is all the Christmas socials that eat into a lot of the working hours this time of year. For example this week alone I am out the office quaffing free wine and nibbles on 2 afternoons. Hurrah for free food and wine but boo for even less time to sort out all the urgent shit. I think this is what they call ‘time management’ and ‘multi-tasking’ but you see I forgot how to do that in the 18 months I was sat here doing bugger all and slowly losing my mind. I’ve learnt at least that it takes your brain a while to get back up to speed when you got from desperately trying to find tasks to fill your day to having to find the days to complete your tasks.
Still, at least it makes the day go quicker and gives me a bit more fuel towards pushing for that pay rise. Oh yes, that pay rise will be mine * stares into distance with defiant look *
But enough of my moaning about work. “Shut up
This was 500 people in a massive marquee being plied with more free drink and food, with more of an emphasis on the drink. It also involved a very long coach journey in rush hour traffic which made everyone all the more thirsty. I ended up sitting next to Moon Monkey on that ride (it was him or CJ and he seemed the lesser of 2 evils after Ms Rigsby ditched me for a seat at the front with Andre) and he commented that if our department had organised this shin dig there would have been a bar on the coach. You have to admire the man for his priorities at least. I also learnt that Mrs Moon Monkey is preggers again – abstaining from the work party due to morning sickness. Well congrats to you Moon Man, another monkey for the clan. I made polite conversation, tried to be as witty as possible and seem knowledgeable about some important business trip he and the other 2 stooges are organising (mainly from over hearing Kirstie on the phone...see I pay attention to the useful stuff)...once again lying further foundations for the pay rise...it will be mine...
Once at the venue I ditched the boss (never seen to be socialising too much, I ain’t no brown noser) and partook in 2, 3 or 4 glasses of champagne. Seeing as my total food intake to that point in the day had been 2 Weetabix and a Super Noodle I was dicing with possible early drunken embarrassment but I managed to hold my own, even talking to the guy in the kilt who was grabbing his sporran an awful lot... Then on to the meal which was.....meh well a meal....more wine and then more wine. The entertainment was varied, a band, a DJ, some of those bucking broncos where you try to stay on by clinging on to whatever you can find and damaging your thigh muscles as they clench the side of the bull, meerkat racing (not real ones), and some virtual golf and skiing. Oh and the free bar.
The dance floor was highly entertaining where I was introduced to a colleagues wife. This was one of those occasions when on introduction you’re saying “Hi, nice to finally meet you” and thinking “really? You’re with HIM?” Yes she was distinctly younger and prettier – I can only imagine she’s waiting until he pops his clogs. I wasn’t the only one thinking this before you start judging (I can hear you), I had a couple of looks even from the Moon Man at the side of the dance floor and a raise eyebrow and nod of the head from Bog Monkey confirmed it. I’m not sure if anyone got drunk enough to ask her why she was with him or said something along the lines of “wow, you’re a lot younger than I expected...like A LOT” but it’s a distinct possibility.
There was also a Nazi photographer in the form of a new lady from one of the other departments who Gunner and I have labelled as ‘scary’. She is. Feckin’ scary.
“COME ON GIRLS GET TOGETHER FOR A PHOTO! QUICKLY NOW!”
You can see the fear in Ms Rigby’s eyes on the ones she emailed round today – someone said it could be that red eye effect but I can see she’s wondering if this image will be used against her in a court of law.
The best thing by far on the dance floor was not the incredibly drunken midget from Accounts with her very embarrassed boyfriend looking on, nor was it the sight of Gunner with a bottle of stray white wine in his hand jumping about to Squeeze, it wasn’t even the time I got a little over excited with my dance moves and managed to smash my mobile and the contents of my bag on the floor (damn girly handbags). The best sight was Andre. Sober Andre, wearing her purpose made bright blue with gold trimming 1400’s style frock, shocking red lipstick, dancing as if her life depended on it. I must say she’s a devoted fan of Brit Pop. She was going mental!! We of course encouraged it all the way and danced like mentals next to her to keep her going – lots of fists in the air, hair swinging about as she head banged and look out for those hips! They’ll get ya! Amazing. I do hope Photo Nazi got some shots, perhaps even a sneaky video. We’ll soon find out I’m sure.
All in all it was a fab evening, I’ll say this for the Nuthouse – they know how to organise a good party. A free cab journey home too to boot (once we found it “I’ve been calling your phone” – oh you mean the phone which is currently in pieces in my shit girly handbag?) with Ms Rigsby...I think I was talking quite a bit, not sure what about, she doesn’t seem to remember either so we are safe there. You can’t go wrong can you? I may have sold my soul to the corporate folk but they have paid me back generously in the social sense. Now this week we have more drinks on Wednesday to celebrate something fabulous that’s happened somewhere (I didn’t take notice of the details, I simply clicked on ‘Accept’ when I read the words ‘drinks and canapés’) and then the department Xmas lunch on Thursday. You can take your non-free public services Christmas dinner at Pizza Hut and shove it up your do-gooding, giving back to the community arse...I’m off to the champagne bar! Hic!
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