Party On

So my office "holiday party" or "two hours and seventeen minutes of pure torture in which at least one person cries, one person sulks, one person acts inappropriately towards the food, and I get a headache" is approaching. Due to the aforementioned (aforementioned, heh, I went to law school) crying, years ago we started to vote as to whether we will have an office party. Traditionally the party is a pot luck wherein (oy! another law school word!) I and one or two other people cook and everyone else chips in $5 for pork and rice and beans. Having bitched up a storm because I was tired of being the schmuck that cooked and not one who chipped in the $5 and saved myself aggravation (Me: Here's my $5, I'll chip in toward the pig stuff. Them: We have enough money, thanks! Me: Assholes.), I voted no for the party last year. I was able to organize a grassroots rebellion and the party was nixed. We only have eleven people so this sounds more impressive than it really was. We ended up having pizza delivered, pizza which gave me heartburn and wrecked my insides. There was some sort of karma at work for my bah-humbug attitude I guess. In any event, not wanting to spend a day in the lavatory as penance for hating my co-workers, I did not vote no for the party this year. The party is on; the party though, has changed.

According to the fourteen memo's I received, yes, I said memos, apparently word of mouth isn't going to cut it, we are ordering in and potlucking AT THE SAME TIME.
Mr. Cool was assigned beverages. He said he'll bring soda and "special" egg nog. By special I hope he means rum with a sprinklin' of nutmeg. I'm gonna need it.