Happy Birthday

This is my boss Sash (photographed here with the lovely Bindya from India looking fabulous in red)

Yesterday it was Sash's birthday so a couple of girls in the office arranged to get him a cake with a picture and a personalised message delivered to the office for him.

And this is what arrived...

Happy Birthday... SARAH? Tash I would've understood but Sarah?

We got a replacement cake but Sash still didn't look too happy about it all.. maybe it's cause the picture was a monkey... imagine if we told him it was a monkey named Sarah!

P.S. Get this - "Happy Birthday Sarah" is sitting in the server room awaiting to be picked up... as if... what are the company going to do with it?!

Christmas Cracker!

I've had the blessing of working as the Office Manager for a consulting firm (who even knows what that means!)... that's not exactly the blessing... but the open plan office certainly is... I feel like I'm living out the dream that is an episode of "The Office" (I never thought I'd say this but the American version is far superior... don't tell the Brits ;-)

Each day is full of characters going about their daily life and humouring me... whether they know/like it or not!

As it's December and the silly season that is Christmas is setting in I, being the office manager have introduced a few things to humour the 20 or so staff we have in the office... it started with Secret Santa and continued today with a Christmas Tree being set up in our office. Because my job means I basically spend other people's money to do what I want (Insert wicked cackle here) I organised for our plant company to bring in a tree and set it up... decorations and all!!!

I've had this day highlighted in my diary for weeks - "December 8th" and everytime the doorbell rang or a stranger walked in I thought my wildest dreams were being realised - I even asked a courier who brought in a vacuum cleaner if he was here to set up the Christmas Tree - and by 3pm I was actually a bit concerned borderline mental episode that the tree may not arrive!!!

On the edge of my seat, about ready to pick up the phone and give the plant company an earful for delaying the delivery of Christmas a friendly bohemian strolled in asking... where to set up the Christmas Tree - Get in!!!

This is exactly the kind of photo stand that used to occupy the space of our Christmas Tree... go on... say it... I know what you're thinking... kitsch!

I quickly moved the photo stand and made room for the blessed tree!!! I don't really know what I was expecting - I was already taken back by the friendliness of the young, Christmas bearing green thumb and then - he had two assistants bring in all the goodies - there was a pack of people bearing Christmas.

I was happy, things were under way. I found myself very distracted and kept on gazing over at the tree as it was unwrapped and decorated... I admit... I could be found half smiling with glazed eyes looking at that tree...

After a while I noticed that one of Santa's Little Helpers was quite cute... bonus... so now I had two reasons to stop working and gaze over to my left. While gazing I was caught by surprise...

Overwhelmed by my surprise I quickly opened up a group chat on my skype account with a few of my colleagues... this surprise was too good...

"Howdy, I doubt any of you have taken the opportunity to gaze at the Christmas Tree as I have. I hope for your sake you have not repeatedly caught the eyeful I have every time I've looked at the young whipper snapper decorating the tree. It seems we have a new contender for plumber's crack... Christmas Cracker"

Yep that dark haired cutie was flashing his smile at both ends!

All it takes is for one person to laugh and I'm gone... thanks to my friend Bindya (from India!) my giggles were off and racing. The jokes flew around the communal online chat (Covent Garden Pants, Putting the pants in plants, Making you smile this Christmas...)

Bindya from India

Finally the tree was decorated and the original bohemian returned after "parking the van" (for 40 minutes mind you) and asked the office if we could check that the tree had been set up appropriately... everyone said "The office manager, Larissa"... oh dear... I knew I couldn't go near that tree or that bum bearing decorator without laughing so palmed off the responsibility to our marketing manager claiming that she needed to make sure the tree was to our firm's standard!

The Final Product

The team trekked out and then my Director and such asked why I was red and why I wouldn't go and look at the tree... after all... I had been waiting all day for this!!! So we all began to explain what had happened... that the decorator had been flashing more than lights... then all of the sudden my collegue starts giving us the eye and trying to subtly hush us ... turns out our boy was on his hands and knees cleaning up pine needles from the ground - we all threw our heads on our desks in shame... as red as Rudolph's nose... then he left!!!

Is anyone else seeing this???

So while lounging in the lounge this evening I spied the following poking out from under the "hot chocolate table"...

For those of you who may be unaware of the relevance of this stapled batch of papers please see below its ranking...

My feelings towards it...

In case you're wondering... yes, this is the kitchen bin!

Volleyball

So for anyone who has had the pleasure of visiting London and my friends over the last few years you may be well aware that we like to play volleyball... well I personally like to play volleyball... others... love to play it and then there are some... specifically a certain bracket of boys who lose control of their bodily functions for the cause... specifically... rational thought... hence irrational words and phrases. There may be certain people who on occasion find that their obsession for the game means it is no longer anything to do with volleyball... just competition and obnoxiousness.

Remember if you will that I broke my foot playing volleyball and hobbled around London on crutches only to return to the game when I had recovered... and I only "like" playing the game, I'm one of the least!

At the end of the day no one is a professional... we are a bunch of amateurs playing for our own amusement... I mean really... we often start games and realise a few points into the game that no one has been keeping score so we decide to go with 1 all.

I may or may not live with one of the people a few ranks up the volleyball chain, in the realm of "obnoxious volleyballer", the queen bee (QB) of volleyball if you will... who can often be found giving himself and everyone else within a mile of the court an aneurysm on any given Thursday...

I suggested to him once that if he thought he was so good and was on the border of bursting an artery for the cause of improving everyone else's game that he should enter a team into a local competition... you know a social volleyball league... a reason to justify the otherwise unnecessary obnoxiousness and competition. Apparently, according to the queen bee "no one is good enough" and anyone who is good enough "has a bad back" or is "inconsistent". So obviously if you're not going to enter a local competition lets ruin a joyful get together by pretending that we're Olympic rejects who are now in an anger management program on a supervised excursion to play volleyball!!!

Play or even spectate... if you dare!!!

Queen bee can now no longer burst enough capillaries on a Thursday so has now introduced volleyball on a Tuesday... for the elite... only. Being of the humble "likes playing volleyball" rank I have not been invited to join "elite" Tuesday games... i'm not joking... it is referred to as "elite" by the queen bee. After he hit more balls out than me last night I'm actually questioning if he saves his elite game for Tuesdays... only!!! Upon second thought maybe "elite" has nothing to do with the game maybe it's just the tantrums that are thrown.

The tantrums though are in vain... because... lets face it... who really is threatened by a guy whose choice of penile extender is only a 15 inch volleyball... I mean really... if you're going to invest in a phallic symbol... buy a car already!!!

Judgey Judge

So I work in a little area called the "Square Mile" in London - renowned for the hundreds of banks that play with our money and law firms that bust them for doing so. This area is built on money... or the illusion/ mirage of money.

Anyone who knows me knows that my greatest attributes are lost working in the square mile at a stuffy law firm... but it pays the bills... so I hate that I love the square mile and I love to hate it!!!

This place is full of mostly suited men that on any random lunch time you can see becoming more red in the face and pOtted in the belly as they loiter laughing and shouting outside any one of the abundant bars/pubs in the area. I refer to them as "fat cats" and I pretty much think most of them are... hmmm... let me think... how would you say... oh i know... PATHETIC!

"Warning - sweeping comment follows"

I'm sure there are some good people working here but then there are so many bad ones driven by greed. Their greed crossed with society's acceptance and humouring of it contributed to the wonderful "Credit Crunch" of 2008 and then in close succession the "Recession" of 2009.

I resent not only the greedy sods whose love of money has lead to our economic downturn but also working in such close proximity to them. As I go to work every day on the tube the carriage begins to fill with more and more suits and I mentally... and sometimes physically... scowl at them as they steal seats on benches that are clearly designed for 3 people to sit on... which they seem to think only cater for two fat cats at best... while us lovely ladies stand and fend off the pages of the broadsheet Financial Times that threaten to papercut us! "Insert huff and puff of frustration here"

So yesterday I managed to get a seat and from my high horse I scowled as a fat cat stumbled onto the train nearly elbowing people in the head as he opened his Financial Times - I judged him. I moved my gaze along the carriage ready to take down my next victim with my piercing glare and there he was another suit, reading, except it wasn't the peachy pages of the Financial Times in his grasp... no no no... it was... brace yourself... Twilight!!!

I came off my high horse with that one

Mouth-watering

There are a few things in this world that make my mouth water... ice cream, my crush (swoon) and the following play synopsis...

"Written in 1901, a mysterious amalgam of Freud, Alice in Wonderland and Strindberg's own private symbolism, A Dream Play follows the logic of a dream: A young woman comes from another world to see if life is really as difficult as people make it out to be. Characters merge into each other, locations change in an instant and a locked door becomes an obsessive recurrent image. As Strindberg wrote in his preface, he wanted 'to imitate the disjointed yet seemingly logical shape of a dream. Everything can happen, everything is possible and probable. Time and place do not exist.'"

Kinkyfish are currently looking for a new play and this is one of the contenders. The thing I love about all things artsy is the ability to be able to escape reality in a healthy constructive way... it's not like you make room for it... things artistic and creative can expand your mind... they make room for somewhere else for your thoughts to run... such a thought is so delightful unto me... in fact mouth-watering!

Stressful

The art of blogging is an art indeed... actually it's not an art... it's a mathematical equation... a scientific problem... striking the balance between what to write about, when to write, how much to write - AAAAAHHHHHH!!! I've had to give myself an intervention. I am working towards my blog being synonymous with the wit, humour and intelligence of my thoughts and this is stressful. To truly be synonymous with my thoughts I am going to insert a story about my current crush... I may think about my crush every other minute... I'll let my blog determine if this is true.

In a recent conversation with my fabulous flat mate and friend I paused and broke the silence with the following comment "I need to work out ways to touch him more" Her response "Well don't you wanna talk to him?" my response "...oh yeah"