Part… oh

Jesus. It’s my work Christmas party tonight. The very large one thrown by MegaCorp Inc, the one that’s the result of the billions of dollars we accrue from our services killing vast numbers of puppies each year.

I’m kidding. We don’t do that. Please don’t fire me.

Anyway, so I’m clearly not at my work Christmas party because I’m fecking knackered and extremely anti-social. At the moment my day consists of being bombarded by emails and instant messages by people asking the same questions over and over again, when ten seconds of common sense thought would provide the answer, because I have nothing better to do with my time*. Women are supposed to be good at multi-tasking but, you know, there’s a limit. I’m going to eat my banofee pie that’s masquerading as M&S zesty lemon cheesecake – which is an inside gag I really can’t be arsed to explain – and go to bed.

* This is a lie

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