Have you ever been stirring coffee with those tiny, little, couldn't-possibly-ever-suck-anything-through straws?

Ever lost your handle on that little straw and watched the swirling coffee take it round and round? It doesn't move in a uniform circle either, it'll jump from one side to the other and then sit. Then swirl around a couple times, and then stall out.

I just spent the last 5 minutes trying to catch that goddamed little straw in my coffee. The coffee wasn't swirling for five minutes on its own, I just lost my grip on the straw that many times.

Life is kinda like that cuppa office-sludge.

I'm just trying to keep a steady motion going without going too fast, for I will spill, or too slow, for things will get stagnant and ruin the mixture.

Too often lately I've lost my grip on that fucking straw though, and spent in inordinate amount of time chasing it around the cup.

I know what you're thinking... and you're right.

"Why not just put your finger on one spot on the rim and wait for the straw to make it's way around?"

Answer: Because I'm a goddamed idiot, that's why.

Also because that would be the exact moment that the little straw's little feet would gain purchase on the sugar-coated bottom of the coffee cup, and it would stay hung up on the side only until I reached for it, when it would deftly dodge my fingers and go back to swirling.

That little straw is a fucker like that.

---

Gayb0y organized a "treat-chart" for the month of December, where everybody in IT brings in a "treat" on a different day.

He was so excited about it that I agreed to bring in a goddamed treat. I figured that I'd wow everybody with my culinary skills (as well as further regress into either a really hairy chick, or a complete gaywad) and make home-made caramels.

I stirred that sugary-shit for 2 and a half fucking hours last night. I followed The Mom's recipe to the fucking letter. I did everything right. I got 'em in the fridge before nighty-night, and figured I'd cut 'em into little squares when I got to the office.

I was understandably upset when I threw the pan in the truck this morning, and my supposed-to-be-firm-enough-to-be-little-squares mixture displayed the tendencies of fuck-you-Judd-I-decided-to-be-ice-cream-topping instead.

I stormed into the nearest grocery store, bought some of their shitty baked goods, and then fumed into the office. As I was attempting to put the store-bought crap onto plates and strive for some semblance of home-madey goodness, I noticed that the people who were eagerly waiting for their "treat" were rapidly losing interest.

"What? Nobody likes stale-ass, day-old, lumps of shit covered in sugary, crunchy frosting?"

"Hmph. Thanks for taking the time to care. You must have been up all night 'baking.' Thought you were bringing caramels."

"Hey, Fuck You, and fuck those fuckin' caramels too."

*offended look*

"Sorry. Why isn't anybody even going for the Blueberry Bread? It's not THAT shitty."

"Oh, it looks good, but it didn't help it's appeal when you kept digging the sections out of the carton, licking your fingers, and then grabbing more pieces of bread."

"Oh shit, I didn't even know I did that."

"OBVIOUSLY. You did it, like 5 times in a row."

"Aw fuck 'em, everybody's already seen my ass out in the hallway by now, they can partake of some of my cooties too."

---

As for the "Guess the Baby Picture Voting" shit, apparently I'm not doing so well in the hunt for the Least Recognizable Award.

I didn't think you could see that much of my face in that picture, but there are people from the 4th floor Accounting Department that are guessing me correctly.

Shit man, I've only met some of these folks once or twice, what the hell?

I was told that most guessed it by personality, and that I'm heavily in the lead for the Biggest Troublemaker Award.

Sweet.

Sign me up for more gay-ass lamewad Christmas shit, please.

---

Email from VPGuy this morning: Come see me for your "package."

I grabbed my own "package" just to check and make sure VPGuy didn't have it, and then wandered into his office.

It's well-rumored in our department, that our Holiday Bonuses were to be delayed until after the New Year for tax reasons or some shit. Not only did this news effectively crap all over my plans of actually purchasing gifts for anyone at all this year, it killed a couple of my hopes for paying some bills too.

The whole caramel-squares-into-caramel-sauce thing already had me pretty pissy, so I wasn't in the mood to be fucked with about how much money I WON'T be getting for Christmas.

VPGuy: 'Morning Judd! Excited for your first Christmas at MyCompany?

Me: Oh, you bet. I'm especially enjoying watch sales dip because people are out buying other shit, instead of our products.

VPGuy (Smile fading): Well, your 'pet' project is still doing pretty well isn't it?

Me: Yeah, I guess, but Caramel-Square-Sauce and Blueberry Cootie Bread isn't making my day either.

VPGuy (perplexed look): Wha... (shakes head) Anyway, you're a pretty big guy, you wear a double-X L?

Me: Sure, at least until I wash it. Which, theoretically, could be months.

VPGuy (tossing me a baby blue sweatshirt with MyCompany Logo on it): Merry Christmas!

I tried faking enthusiasm by clutching it to my chest and squealing, but I could tell that he wasn't buying it.

To further prove my "sincerity" to him, I stripped off my shirt and threw on that cheesy-ass sweatshirt in the middle of his office.

"See?!? I love it!" I shouted, with a big smile.

I thought he was still looking at me skeptically until I turned around and was reminded that his office has glass walls and is in the middle of MyCompany's offices. Directly across from the Baby Pictures in the hallway. Where all the office people were gathered looking at the Baby Pictures. And are now looking at me.

I was kind of hoping for laughter, or even applause (c'mon ego-booster, give Daddy some love), instead I got expectant looks and the office manager shouting, "Are the pants next? Gonna prove this picture is really you?"

It was that exact moment when my brain was wondering what the appropriate response would be while my hands were already unfastening my belt, and I felt VPGuy's hand on my shoulder.

"Hey! Slow down there Tex, got something else for ya."

I fastened my belt back up, and looked at the very large check in his hand... with my name on it.

"...Whoa... Merry Christmas..."

Money doesn't buy happiness, but it rented me a much better mood.