Why can't we all just get along?
Now, poppets, you know I don't like to pepper my pages with the language of a potty mouth... but for the love of all that is holy, why won't everyone just stop pooping on my Christmas season?
Let's start with Piranhas that have far too much time on their hands.
I have to admit - every year, Piranha Ltd. throws one hell of a Christmas party. They even have the walnuts to call it a Christmas party, and not a Seasonal Celebration or some such political correct silliness.
There is always a great dinner - and I know food, my darlings. I've never had anything to complain about when it comes to the edibles. The service is always impeccable, and the venues are interesting and posh, yet welcoming at the same time. It's a formal attire kind of evening, with an evening of eating, dancing and imbibing. Yes, an open bar, as well! (Cash bars are tacky.) And in the interest of enjoying the open bar and being responsible, they even encourage the taking of cabs to and from the party. And by 'encourage', I mean, 'pay for'. Nice, hmm?
This year, we have a smaller company, and an even smaller budget. The market is soft, after all. There will still be free flowing cocktails, and a lovely dinner, but there will be no dance afterward. It's a shame, really, because I've always believed a party isn't a party until your Mare gets to shake and shimmy. But, you know, whatever. It's a party. It's a gift from the company. I'm sure the restaurant will still be lovely, though it's a fact that it's not of grandiose proportions or unique quality such as venues of past years. So you would think, poppets... you would think that some of the Piranhas would just get over it! God! Stop complaining! Stop whinging! Stop your bloody pestering and heckling and all-round sourpuss-ness. Just. Shut. Up. Throw your own party if you're that sick about it!
It's Christmas, dammit! The season of joy and generosity! So, bloody step off, or I'm going to start telling you what I really think! Like, out loud, even. To your face!
Well, not to your face, per se... but you know, I will bring out my Evil Eye and it Will. Not. Be. Pretty.
God. Some people. I tell you.
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In other news, I started my Christmas shopping yesterday, and ended up buying something for myself instead. Really, darlings, at this rate, I may just have to tell everyone to buy their own gifts and say they're from me. In return, I'll just pretend that all this new stuff that I'm indulging in is from every else.
Hey, now. There's an idea...
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