Wednesday, January 11, 2006

All in a day's work

Things I never thought I'd have to say (at least not at work):

"I don't care whose birthday it is, we can't have people stripping in the marketing room!"

It's a co-worker's birthday tomorrow, and her gay husband (don't ask - I don't know what kind of situation they've got worked out, I just know he's gay) hired a male stripper to come dance in her office. Gay Husband called Birthday Girl's assistant to confirm Birthday Girl's schedule, and Assistant decided that the stripping would require a more private venue than Birthday Girl's glass-walled office. So she offered up the marketing room - the only room in the entire firm boasting walls you can't see through.

Um. Hold up. As much as I love strippers, something tells me the shit will hit the fan when this gets out. I hate to be a downer, but given that said shit plans to be naked and gyrating under the marketing department's fan, I think I'm gonna have to nix it. Do it anywhere else you want, I really don't care. But (here it is), "I don't care whose birthday it is, we can't have people stripping in the marketing room!"

So I can either do some party poopin', or have shit flung at me by a ceiling fan. Seems to me it's better to be the pooper than the poopee. I really wanted to make the right decision though, so I asked Jesus what He would do. Jesus told me to poop.

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