Okay. I think we can call that my first official Bad Santa moment of the season. My lousy (or "crummy" as my mother would say) mood ended shortly after that post, when I got into a conversation on the T with a nice kid who was in a wheelchair and had MS. Nothing like seeing someone gracefully deal with a tragic situation to make you realize what a wanker you are. So, I don't hate all people. Just Skip Bayless. He's still a douchebag.
I just received my official credentials for the annual Fidelity Investments holiday gala. "Party" just doesn't capture it. I'm going to guess that they drop about a million bucks on this 4 hour affair on an average year. Last year, Cirque Du Soleil was there. Yes. This is not your standard bottle-of-grey-goose-in-the-conference-room affair (which is fortunate since our principal AV engineer recently got canned for nailing the AV vendor rep on one of our conference room tables). This year I was delighted to find out that I had won the lottery for a coveted pair of tickets to the Fidelity Follies, a whimsical revue put on by fellow employees. Hottest tickets in town. Well, actually, I didn't win the lottery for tickets to the actual Follies. I won the lottery for tickets to the simulcast of the Follies, to be aired in a conference room next to the auditorium. Wonder how much I could get on eBay for these babies. Because I plan on drinking Sam Lights and eating prime rib and shrimp until I yak all over my elevated business casual attire.
(*standing on the coat check counter, !_! metalhorns thrust high in the air !_!*)
"Suck it, you muthafuckas!!"
(*falling backward into a pile of fur coats, passing out*)