What happened at the Christmas party
I am so hung over, I might be dead. I don't know for definite. I do know that writing anything decent is going to be hard work, so while I try and avoid eye contact from all the people in the office who saw me dancing suggestively to The Pussycat Dolls last night, I will see what I can remember from the office party.
Glasses of champagne before sitting down for meal: 8
Canapés before sitting down for meal: 20? (Mainly honey-glazed sausages - scrum)
Drinks consumed with meal: 1 glass champagne, 3 glasses red wine, 2 glasses white wine
Person I sat next to at dinner: Commercial Director with yellow teeth, dirty finger nails and coffee-and-tobacco breath
Person Little Lou got to sit next to: William (looking dapper in Diesel jeans and fitted black shirt)
Level of annoyance that Lou got to sit next to William: 368
Gift from Secret Santa: 'Hilarious' comedy mug with picture of 'hunk in trunks' where hot liquid makes said trunks fall down revealing knob
Standard of dinner: Far cry from canapés at beginning
First person on the dancefloor: Me
Time it took anyone to join me: 20 minutes
Music played: Varied from semi-decent to early Madonna
Favourite conversation of the night:
Me: When are you going to play some garage?
Girl (DJ's Assistant): It's not up to me - he says (pointing to old man DJ) no one here will like it.
Me: Who the fuck is he anyway? He's so old he wouldn't know a good song if it bit him on the arse.
Girl (DJ's Assistant): He's my dad.
How many people I said goodbye to when I realised how drunk I was and needed to make a quick exit: 0
Time spent wandering around Westminster trying to work out how to get back to Kings Cross: 25 minutes
Time it took to realise I was going to miss the last train home from Kings Cross: 11 minutes
Amount of friends I called asking them if I could crash at their flats: 3
Amount of friends who answered their phones: 0
Time spent panicking that I was going to have to sleep under a bridge before Doormouse called me back and said I could stay at his: 6 minutes
Time I woke up this morning on his sofa in just my pants: 9:50am
Size of my hang over: Gargantuan
Relief that I have a half day and can go home at 12:30pm and won't have to talk to anyone else: Immeasurable
7 comments:
You are my hero! (I was going to add quite a lot more redundant exclamation marks, then remembered previous post lol -- oh, oops... I should de-lol this comment immediately).
8 glasses of champagne before dinner? I would have been the boring girl passed out under the table, or throwing up on the shoes of people trying to dance, or telling the boss what I really thought of him, or telling my gay male colleagues how much I lurve them.
Wish I'd been there.
I have just had my christmas party! It went the same way as yours but I managed to Fuck Off my boss by being on a table nearer to the Directors than him, prissy old haggard QUEEN! I am now having on get on a train to the armpit of the world that is BIRMINGHAM! I have acid burn from too many glasses of champagne and white wine that no amount of rennies will sort out. Why do we do this to ourselves!
La Fille: I am glad my drinking has impressed you. I came very close to all of those things you'd have done, but as it was my last official function before they get rid of me for good, I wanted to go out in style. So far I have received 4 emails from co-workers I never speak to congratulating me on my dancing. But none as yet from William. (Well done on the de-lolling - I didn't want to have to turn violent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Mitzi: Christmas parties are designed to let us piss people off, I think. I also had acid burn from all the bubbly and despite the afternoon off yesterday, I still don't feel 100% this morning. And Birmingham? Poor girl!
Oh Dear, work Xmas do's are the worst. I used to work in publishing and the ol' nose candy is very common in that environment.... Cut to me at my first work Xmas part telling my boss (who didn't smoke or drink) that I was off my nut because i had just been doing coke with one of the Editors in the toilet. To say the next day I wanted my fridge door to open up and swallow me is an understatement.
She never looked at me quite the same way.
Yes, TM, I know who you are talking about.
Didn't you come to work in a baseball cap the next day, or something equally horrific?
I did, with Jackie O style glasses.
And as for the top editor, I'm sure you are aware that his behaviour hasn't changed much....
Did you wear vintage Halston for the Jackie O impression?
His behavious is still the same, although slightly miffed I didn't get asked into the loos at this year's party!
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