It's eerily quiet this afternoon in the winter wonderland that is the Government Center. Everyone else got to go home. Guess who got to stay? Yep. If I hadn't had to stay, I wouldn't be writing this right now. Nope, I'd be at home. Baking. The flour that gets everywhere; using every single measuring cup or spoon you have (and I have a lot. Probably 25. No lie.); making a complete mess which brings on a shouting match between you and and your roommate in which, not just the pile of dirty dishes is the topic, but also a (now clean) pile of dirty dishes you left in the sink like a year ago that she still hasn't forgiven you for (and from which, somehow, the smell is still disgustingly sticking around). Ahhh. I love baking. I'll have a promisingly entertaining post possibly later today about my adventures in baking from last night. (Spoiler alert: when the recipe calls for baking powder, the recipe writer wasn't kidding. It really does need baking powder.)But today's topic: PRISONERS.
So somehow I got roped into helping decorate our hall for the departmental decorating contest. (I so know I.T. is going to win. Those whores win every year.) I guess I just exude creativity because the project was kind of handed over to me. However, this is no way, implies that I have full creative reign over how things get decorated. This just means that I am the work horse on which all of the responsibility falls. Thanks a lot.
Now, if I were to decorate, it would look very traditional: lots of green, red, and gold. A pretty tree, maybe some wrapped gifts under it with cute ribbon. I mean, I'm a classy gal. There is no part of who I am that is "tacky" (I hope. Well, maybe when I have a few too many glasses of wine. That's a different story. Back to the prisoner story.) So I'm not tacky, ok? However, if I didn't know better, or perhaps if I was just a visitor to our building, I would assume that we were competing in a "Oh My Gosh, This is the Tackiest Christmas Decorating Job Ever! What the hell?" contest.
Let me just give you a visual: when you step off the elevator, you are greeted by a winter wonderland setting. There is an outdoor scene with snowy trees taped to the wall. Then there's the saddest-this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree. And fake snow. And those creepy reindeer that raise their heads intermittently. This inviting scene takes you down the hall to the entry way. The entry way looks great. Mayyyyybe because it was my idea. With garland and a beautiful wreath. (See? Classy.) So warm and inviting. THEN, you come inside our little foyer area in which it looks like the Dollar Tree threw up. There is a mantle, fake fire, garland, a fiber-optic angel (yes, her wings are those stiff string things that turn all different colors), a stuffed reindeer that is wearing clothes (um, scary), a stuffed snowman (also wearing clothes) that dances, and, wait for it, wait for it...stuffed people sitting in chairs by the fake fire. It is honestly, the weirdest and verging on the side of frightening thing I have ever seen.
And people will ask, 'whose idea was this?' And my name, my classy and sophisticated name, will slip through the lips of the person answering that question.
Oh and the prisoners who come around to our cubicles everyday to collect our trash, refill our toilet paper in the bathrooms, vacuum, etc. helped us decorate. I thought it was hilarious. Yes, they are considered the "good" prisoners. But they still wear jumpsuits and orange vests that say "PRISONER" on them. I mean, how many times in your life will you be able to say you decked the halls with the county prisoners help? Hilarious.
P.S. - My boss is still here and is listening, EXTREMELY LOUDLY, to the Beatles sing Christmas songs on his computer. And I could be mistaken, but I think he's got "So this is Christmas" on repeat. Way to put us all in the Christmas spirit, boss man.
P.S.S. - Larry's gone for the day. His gout got a little out of control (something about he had steak for dinner last night and the weather is about to get cold???) so he had to take some medicine (for which I got a really unneeded explanation: his gout medicine apparently gives him the squirts. Yeah.) However, before he left, I started singing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", which, of course, he began to whistle. No surprise there. What did surprise me though was that his whistling "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" somehow turned into him whistling the theme song to The Jeffersons. You know, "Movin on up! To the east side! To that deeelux apartment in the sky!" Obviously, this was a version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" I had never heard before.
P.S.S.P.S.P.S.Z.Q. - I am currently enjoying a delicious lunch of chili cheese fries. I think the workers at Checkers laced it with Larry's poop gout medicine.