Two times each year, we have drink-at-work days. Now, mind you, la boss lady does not know that we consider these days thus, but she also drink-at-works, so fuck it. Fuck it.
Anyway. So this is one of those days. It's called a Poinsettia. It consists of cheap-ass champagne and cranberry juice. AND I LOVE IT.
Later, today will be called "Annual Deal With Being Mildly Hungover At Work Day," but right now, no. Right now is a BOSS.
In return for this bullshit I have to deal with a picture with the staff and Santa! And count toys for pToysforTotsp. But I also get free lunch. See? You win some, you lose some.
You got to take what you get.
In other news, I'm grumpy, terribly, terribly bitchy about work, and not in the mood to fuck around with this shit.
BUT. My band has a really good gig on Friday. So that's fun! And the baby will be performing, the same night, natch, at a different location, and I will be missing that. Beast. And the big kid is home for the holiday, and that's good. And I still have more Poinsettia to drink.
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