Aaah, 'tis the season for annoying people, crowded streets, long lines, and, of course, stupid holiday parties. We fulfill the obligation to get dressed up in sparkly, glittery, obnoxious articles of clothing that cost astronomical amounts of money. All the women are vying to outdo their friends and coworkers; everyone looks to hook-up after indulging on free booze and taking advantage of the presence of mistletoe adorning the very lit-up and poinsettia'd party venue. I, for one, am a sucker for free food and unlimited Diet Coke. A friend of mine RSVP'd me for a party I didn't particularly feel like attending. However, I got dressed up, without the sparkles, fringe, and sequins, of course, and went to a party with my friend. Of course, we didn't have the exact address, so we just looked for a well-lit home with many cars.
This particular gathering included the infamous white elephant gift. I was enlightened on the significance of the white elephant gift, that you bring something you don't want and someone may pick it. However, people may decide that they want something that someone else has. Now, the countdown to the white elephant gift was filled with shallow introductions and meaningless conversations with people who have no care or need to know anything about me. My friend and I arrived a fashionable 30 minutes late, but, I can always count on another coworker to be even later. Now, she burst in with hair that had just been removed from rollers and some designer duds that looked rather aged for me, compared to my little J.Crew dress (quite a steal on the price). She has a day job as a physician and another moonlighting job as a salesperson in a shop that sells kitchenware. She shared some very one-sided stories about her store salesperson-type experiences.
So, I had #30 in the whole white elephant process, after choosing numbers out of a hat. Now, the advantage of having the higher number is that you get to steal from others, if you like their gift. One of my colleagues picked a lovely "pimpin'" stein, that said, "Hottie" in sparkle and glitter. She had no idea that I had my sights set on that "Hottie" goblet. Finally, I had my moment, and it was stolen fair and square. As I thought about it more, a revelation occurred. This thing had to be. . .the Holy Grail. Yes, kids, I stole the pimpin' stein, which is actualy the Holy Grail. I'm sure that Jesus took his last drink out of a goblet that had the word "Hottie" beadazzled all over. Anyway, hopefully, having this Hottie Holy Grail may actually get me a date. . .yeah, right!
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