Wow. I’m like, the worst blogger ever. The “One Awkward Year” movie is going to be a real snoozefest. I’ll have to write some shower scenes to spice this bitch up.
Anyway – here’s something to ponder on this fine Day After MLK Day: Office Parties. What is the deal with office parties?? (Get it? Cuz of that one Seinfeld episode? Lol?)
Office parties are a rare phenomenon in that they are awkward for nearly all of humanity. In recent poll of Awkward Social Interactions conducted by the Better Business Bureau of Sandy Falls, WI*, Office Parties came in at a close second, just under Communal Bikini Waxing.
I work for a relatively large department so we have frequent reasons to get down, office style. There are birthdays, random professional achievements, holidays, etc. All of these parties begin with a group e-mail commanding that we meet at “The Usual Spot” at a certain time. “The Usual Spot” is a filing cabinet located just outside of the main bosslady’s office. This proximity allows her to continue working through the party and pop out just long enough to make some kind of toast and, if we’re really lucky, coerce everyone into singing “Happy Birthday.”
Inevitably, the first person to show up at the party is the guest of honor – you can’t be late to your own hoedown- and he or she will continue to linger, alone, next to the platter of Betty Crocker FunFetti Cupcakes until the rest of the team manages to pull themselves away from their cubicles. (We take ourselves very seriously.)
Finally the department gathers and shares in a joyous celebration, avoiding delving into their personal lives too much, sticking to such safe topics as TV (“That Paula Abdul sure is wacky”) and food (“Man I love cheese. Cheese, cheese, cheese.”) There is, of course, always the oversharer (“I had sex on the beach on vacation!”) and the jokester (“You don’t look a day over 54, Patty.”) and the one who can’t talk about anything other than work (I’m not coming up with an example for this, you get the drift.) but I’d imagine that if God would draw thought bubbles over our heads (how fucking sweet would that be??) we’d all be thinking the same thing: “Why can’t I just take this cupcake back to my desk, and continue reading Harry Potter fan fiction and pretending it’s the New York Times, just like I did for the rest of the week. Ron was about to put the Nuderamous curse on Harry and I really, really need to know what happens.”) **
And that’s probably my cue to wrap this post up. I could say more, but things are getting ridiculous.
In Love and Basketball,
* Yeah, I made that up.
** Maybe that’s just me . . .