Ode to Office Parties and How I Love Thee (Seriously)

Ode to Office Parties and How I love Thee (Seriously)


They are the bane of the event world,
the pain in your calender,
the obligation you can't escape
and the unfortunate duty that comes with a paycheck.

However, I must declare my love for office parties,
And how I do love thee,
For even if I don't like my co-workers (except Libby),
Those random parties set me free.

You see, I work in a land of beige and grey,
pierced by cubicle walls and stale air conditioning,
with the most interesting cast of characters--
the cast of the "Office" ain't got nothing on me.

After listening to the personal phone calls,
the shrieks of despair and worry,
the non-stop political chatter,
the only highlight in one's workday,
is a brief break from the monotony.

And that, my friends, is why I love the office party.


Not only do I get to bake tasty treats,
But I get paid to eat them!
Whether it's someone's birthday, Christmas or Halloween,
I don't care how much my co-workers can annoy me,
I'm baking cookies!



Since not even an office party is worth a big plate of barbecue in my book,
at least if I'm paying, anyway,
I break out the old standard,
My trusty Rice Krispie Treats.


I mean, really, I have to really like someone to treat them to joy like this.


I think you'd be inclined to agree.




If I'm feeling particularly charitable,
or find myself drooling again,
I'll mix up a batch of Ben's famous oatmeal cookies,
and will consider sharing.



The best part about office parties,
is the personal spoils.
A plate of cookies,
A plate of krispies,
And a pink princess lunch box to hide them in. (Yes, that's my real lunch box. Yes, I take it to work. Don't judge me.)




Oh office parties,
And how I love thee.
You're the joy in my work,
And the reason I get to keep baking.

And after all, without you,
oh dear office party,
my work would be free of frivolity,
which is never a good thing.
Seriously.


Don't you agree, cookie stealing bunny?

Tomorrow, a new edition of Twirl! Then we have some chicken pot pie, a new Miss Pickles and a whimsical treat to start your weekend off right! Stay tuned!

Arguing with Birds, part 2

The warm weather on Sunday had encouraged the birds to re-appear. They were not amused that the cold front had returned with a vengeance on Monday morning, and sat shivering and sniping at each other as I walked by.

"That is a bird!"

"It is not a bird!"

"It is so a bird. It's the leader of all the hawks!"

"Look at how big it's tail feathers are. It has to be a bird."

"You are dumber than a bug," their leader said in disgust. "It is not a bird."

"Ask the lady."

"Yes the lady will know."

"What will I know?" I asked, stopping to talk to them. The cold wind whipped around us, and the birds and I both squelched up our shoulders for warmth. The birds buried their heads in their wings, with only their loud beaks protruding.

"Is that a bird or is it a hawk?" one particularly naive bird asked me, eyeballing the wisps of hair blowing around my head. I narrowed my eyes at him as his friend smacked him.

"You dumb bird!" his friend scolded him. "A hawk is a bird!"

"But it's a special bird," the bird countered, still watching my head. "Are those golden worms growing out of your scalp?"

"No, it's hair, and no you can't taste it," I answered before he could say anything else. He looked distressed. I looked around, but I could see no birds other than the ones sitting on the fence.

"I don't see another bird," I said. The birds sighed and shook their heads. "Duh, it's up there," one pointed with his beak. I turned to look at a plane flying in the sky.

"That's a plane!" I said. "That's not a bird!"

"Nuh-uh!" the unintelligent bird argued. "Planes are mechanical birds. It says so on that sign over there."

Their leader sighed heavily. "You idiot!" he cried. "That's just a comparison. A plane is a machine."

The birds looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. "This is worse than the french fry incident," the bird muttered. He flew off with the other birds following him. "Wait for me!" the dumb bird cried. "I want to say hi to the mechanical bird! Maybe he'll lead us down South!"

"You're going North!" I called after them. Cursing, they turned in their tracks and flew east, still arguing amongst each other. It doesn't pay to argue with birds.