Oh, the Weather Outside...

If you heard that alcohol numbs pain and then saw my recent drinking pattern, you'd think that this week I'd been caught in a serious barbrawl or hit by a car or had one of those eye exams where they put acid-stinging anethetic drops on your pupils and then stick the rod with the blue light on the end into your eyeball. (My glasses mysteriously broke Saturday night, and I needed a new prescription.) Get a grip, Andrew.

So I've rocked out my two holiday office parties now (one for the department and one for the firm) and have come to the following conclusion; litigators are scary drunks. I found myself last night at 11pm for the smaller office party in a karaoke bar belting out "Hungry Like the Wolf" with the firm's new youngest partner, who I think in a week or two will be my new boss. She'd mentioned she used to have Duran Duran posters all over her walls, so the stupid part of my brain went over and signed us up for a duet. Then I sloshed 7&7 all over her suit while howling and making claws with my hands. Go me. Rather than burning bridges after I cross them, I like to make sure they're well-demolished before I even get there.

It also doesn't help that through some Christmas Miracle of scheduling, this morning's hangover coincided with "Bring your Kid to Work Day." I'm just trying to sit here with my Post and coffee and not be noticed, but has reached the point where I am going clothesline and dropkick the next tyke who runs screaming past my desk I swear to god.