Check it, Peons: Your CNN Humiliation Compartmentalized

Tuesday, December 02, 2008


I've been reading a lot of these "What Not To Do At An Office Holiday Party" lists like this:
And I have just one thing to say:
For the love of all that is good, juicy and delicious about this festive time of year: Throw that dull bullshit out the window.
Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with these list-writing, fun-crushing assholes?
The whole point of an office holiday party is to create gossip for the next day. And what are people supposed to talk about around the water cooler if no one is generous enough to provide good material?
Picture it:
Imagine if no one xeroxed their ass? If no one propositioned the boss with a can of whipped cream and a sly smile? If no one did the cabbage patch? If no one lit their socks on fire? If no one barfed in a ficus plant? If no one burped out "Jingle Bells"? If no one did anything they regretted the next day?

What would be the point?

So I'm begging you:
When you attend your office holiday party--drink too much, tell dirty jokes, wear your underpants on your head or find some other unique way to embarrass yourself.
And then e-mail me with all the details.


a former audio-spud said...

Saara, how could we forget those gloriously lacklustre debacles held at the GWCC all in the name of corporate unity and Holiday merriment? The less-than-stellar cuisine, the overpriced and watered down drinks, the musical tastes culled from a 1985 high school dance, and the annoying co-workers who got even MORE annoying after being plied with one to many Heinekens... oh to be a poor, struggling VJ in Atlanta once more.

vjdutton said...

Too true. And what's even more depressing is that everyone was so broke that there was a stampede to get to that disgusting (but free) food.

Lou Dobbs said...

Don't you worry, I've been working on my cabbage patch.

Anonymous said...

Heinekens? Are you sure about that? At GWCC?

To quote Tim Hughes:

Seriously, where were the fucking Heinekens? All I remember were the 7 oz pony bottles of Butt-wiser and the even more depressing Butt Light.

Heinekens? Shit.

And don't even get me started on how they offered dried out chicken planks as an entree, then when they didn't go like hotcakes at the party, put them back on a gurney (destination Hard Luck Cafe) for a second attempt at a sale.

There weren't any Heinekens in the cafeteria, either, just a scalding hot carafe of over-brewed coffee. The Starbucks sticker on the carafe was a nice touch, though.