Wednesday, December 22, 2004

We're having a holiday party in a conference room tomorrow afternoon. Open bar, decent sushi, and a fat paralegal dressed as Santa Claus. It's fun for the paralegal. Better than on Cinco de Mayo when we make her dress as a pinata. We have a Secret Santa gift exchange. I hate Secret Santa. I picked one of the librarians out of the hat. My initial idea was to wrap up the books I owe the library. I decided instead to give her a scented sponge with soap inside of it. I hope she doesn't think it's a message I think she's dirty. I don't know if she's dirty. I've never met her. She might in fact be dirty. It might be just the right message to send. We're supposed to spend ten dollars. It looks like it costs about ten dollars, although it looks like it's worth about two. Anonymous Wife got it as a present last year from her sister and never opened it. It smells like mango. I hope she likes mango.

She probably will think it's a message that I think she's dirty. People read too much into everything we say. I tell someone I'm too busy to meet with her today, and she sends me an e-mail apologizing for anything she may have done to disappoint me and offering to stay late if I need anything. All it really means is I'm going golfing. Of course, put the idea in my head, and of course she can stay late. I tell someone he looks well-rested and he thinks it means he's about to get a big assignment and he hides from me the rest of the week. All I meant was he looked less sickly than usual. I tell someone I hope she doesn't plan on getting pregnant and she thinks I'm a jerk. It was a compliment. I meant I like your work. People think that because we're having the party on Thursday, we're giving tacit approval for them not to show up to work on Friday. People are wrong.

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