Barbedwire Jaguar (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} acierocolotl) wrote,@ 2008-12-25 19:11:00 |
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Merry Shmas, folx.
"Shmas," that's what I've been calling it--pronouncing the "x" in "xmas" the way the Aztecs might, because what the hell, "Shmas," sounds just absurd enough to catch and it caught.
Wishing me a merry shmas, She (the girrul, of course) informed me that the Santa Claus Performance Review Board (SCPRB) did deem my performance throughout 2008 to be sufficient to merit a bottle of Oban 14yr as a reward (which is damn tasty), and the silliest of toques--in the form of a fish, whose fangly maw is chewing upon my head. When it wore it, she couldn't stop laughing. Pictures will follow once I look a little less dishevelled, of course.
Now, the chief reason for this little writing isn't really to vaunt my superior performance in the eyes of the SCPRB, but it is to share a small, tiny, and (in the context of this here journal) briefly serious post.
My friends (and those other weiners who might read this), I confess to you a brief fear: that my job and other things has encouraged me to become more than a little dull. It is a deathly fear, one that, inspired by a couple mind-numbing years of large-dollar report writing, have sort of quashed any desire to do anything outside of going home and shutting down. I need only see how this journal has languished to better appreciate these worries. Getting that problem licked would be the best Shmas present of all time.
"Shmas," that's what I've been calling it--pronouncing the "x" in "xmas" the way the Aztecs might, because what the hell, "Shmas," sounds just absurd enough to catch and it caught.
Wishing me a merry shmas, She (the girrul, of course) informed me that the Santa Claus Performance Review Board (SCPRB) did deem my performance throughout 2008 to be sufficient to merit a bottle of Oban 14yr as a reward (which is damn tasty), and the silliest of toques--in the form of a fish, whose fangly maw is chewing upon my head. When it wore it, she couldn't stop laughing. Pictures will follow once I look a little less dishevelled, of course.
Now, the chief reason for this little writing isn't really to vaunt my superior performance in the eyes of the SCPRB, but it is to share a small, tiny, and (in the context of this here journal) briefly serious post.
My friends (and those other weiners who might read this), I confess to you a brief fear: that my job and other things has encouraged me to become more than a little dull. It is a deathly fear, one that, inspired by a couple mind-numbing years of large-dollar report writing, have sort of quashed any desire to do anything outside of going home and shutting down. I need only see how this journal has languished to better appreciate these worries. Getting that problem licked would be the best Shmas present of all time.
