Life keeps on trucking day by day, sometimes it is filled with fun and laughter, sometimes though one must struggle to get by, this is how it is.
The daily struggle usually comes in the form of your job. Redundancies, pay cuts, colleagues being set on fire and thrown out the window onto the scrap heap in some form of sick employment death lottery. This is what employers do, (unless you are lucky enough to live in the suit of armour that is the public sector - but that is another post).
So I survived the cull as you all know, and I and my remaining work hounds and I sat back safe in the knowledge that they could not hurt us anymore, all that was left to do was to bed down, put up more pictures of Hulk Hogan, Chelsea Clinton and Gus Cesar in my cubicle and wait for the Christmas party.
The xmas party, this night that would cure all ills, we could put aside our petty fears, our mistrust and hatred of middle management and head out into a Dublin watering hole and drink until we spilled out onto the street and vomited all over Molly Malone melons. It would be cathartic in the extreme, we would return in January ready to do battle with the world and win, but alas it was not to be. For this year our festive fun will be………………………………………………wait for it………………………………………………..drumroll……………………
A hands on cookery course.
A fucking hands on cookery course. Firstly let me just say this, when I head out with my work colleagues I want to get so drunk that I say things I don’t mean, mean things I don’t say and generally want to forget the whole booze laden, guilt making, abuse filled sickmaking affair. How on Gordon Ramsey’s green earth am I going to do that by cooking a bastard chicken fricassee in an apron that says “kiss the prickbag who talks about you behind your back”?
Well, in short it’s impossible. It is also even more impossible because we are not allowed to drink until after we have eaten the food we have so lovingly prepared through gritted teeth, and to add to that safety regulations also do not allow high heeled shoes, and I’ll be half a cup of egg whites and a kilo of caster sugar if I am not allowed to wear my xmas pumps while telling the HR director that he is a “furrgggin pileees oshhh steaaamering cccrantts”.
So in short they have broken me, I am not attending the party, I am not getting my glad rags on, I won’t be getting drunk, I shall be at home watching some hardcore food porn with Nigella and a Teflon handkerchief.
on Nov 9th, 2009 at 5:23 pm
Sadistic fuckbags. Still, at least it’s not paintballing.
on Nov 9th, 2009 at 11:21 pm
Wife, Job, Blog…. gone are the days of cooking up then ?!
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 12:29 am
dirty rotten fuckwads……that’s bad craic right there……plus somewhere some waiter is being stiffed out of a table now……
just saying…
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 1:21 am
cooking class + cooking wine + acid = multicoloured xmas party.
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 10:05 am
@ Radge - that is a very very good point
@ Erectian - Cooking up cooking up, or do you mean cooking up?
@ Manuel - There is some sort of law for that, like boyles law. If the absolute pressure of a waiter is kept constant within a confined space with 24 or more covers per night, the waiter will eventually go frickin nuts.
@ John - you have now made this a “maybe” - know where I can score some microdots?
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 12:00 pm
Red, given my roomie’s imminent departure yogabound… may i suggest we change the movie night you suggested into some sort of voodoo booze sesh in honour of this frankly ludicrous suggestion to go cooking for your Christmas party??? That’ll show those crazy bastards, when they feel the inexplicable burning pain of the needle in the eye.
And yes, I will provide the clove cigarettes.
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
@ Ubuntuc. - I’ll get the Ubuntuc is a frickin maniac t-shirt in then ?
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 12:06 pm
Great I’ll have one in luminous pink please!
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 1:46 pm
Must leave an awful taste in the mouth that - colleagues’ culinary skills aside.
But, “until we spilled out onto the street and vomited all over Molly Malone melons” had me locked in a schoolyard giggle.
mmmm… melons.
on Nov 10th, 2009 at 2:27 pm
I don’t cook/won’t cook the other 364 days of the year… under what mental ass premise would anyone think that I would want to cook my own christmas “excuse for a free piss up” meal?
on Nov 12th, 2009 at 12:44 am
Shroom Fricasse Red. Theres’ millions of them on the pitch and putt course across from Johnny Fox’s. Could be best ever Xmas do.
on Nov 12th, 2009 at 1:42 pm
I dunno about the “Teflon handkerchief” Red. You don’t it bouncing backatcha.
on Nov 12th, 2009 at 1:45 pm
@ Ubuntuc - done.
@ Pryin - What more to say ?
@ NSO - I can’t answer that.
@ Fergs - What a capital idea. Round of gold, some collection, some hallucinations. Word.
@ Waxy - Ohhhhhhhh nasty.