Tomorrow is our office Christmas party. I have not prepared for it. I had even made plans to be busy this evening so that I would be unable to prepare for it.
But, alas, fate and the Butcher have conspired against me. My plans fell through and here on the oven are those awesome peanut butter bars, which I will whip up for my co-workers because I’m nice.
The real question is, what do I bring as my crappy present to exchange?
We’ve got quite a few lighthouses that neither of us like. But my grandma gave them to us and my mom would notice if they were missing. There’s the puppet that the Butcher uses to hit on my friends when he’s drunk. No, then, not that.
I think I’m going to have to go with one of my hideously ugly afghans, from the days when I didn’t know what I was doing.
As a present, it’s got two things going for it. One, it’s ugly so no one’s going to want it. But it’s handmade by me, so I will be able to revel in folks’ discomfort as they pretend like they don’t not want it.
Yes, I think that’s really the perfect thing to bring. That or the jar of peanuts my dad left here at Thanksgiving.