Office Party

After a lot of deliberation, I decided that native american (owa owa owa owa owa) was the way to go; mostly because it involved the least expenditure and humiliation and I already had a tomahawk in my cupboard (from toys R us). I then made a bow and arrow from plastic and string (lethal), found a pair of brown fluffy boots in the cupboard (I'm still not sure whose they are or where they came from), shoved a piece of elastic round my head (sequinned, of course), stapled two feathers to the back of it (the elastic, not my head), plaited my hair et voila! I was good to go.

Thankfully everyone else went full steam with the fancy dress, there were some good efforts made. Oh, and lots of alcohol. And dancing. And stealth avoidance of Office Bore, who I decided was not only boring but also very stupid as he declared (absolutely battered) at the end of the night that he would be driving home from the station. "Oh what, laaaike, don't I get a dance?" he asked as I got my coat to leave. "Laiike, this gal lives near me, ya kno', and truesay I'd offer you a lift home but I am maaaasshed" At which point I looked at him, wrinkled my nose and said very bluntly "No. You don't get a dance. And no, I would never get in a car with you." and walked away. Funnily enough, he didn't make it into work today.

Office Hotty, on the other hand, whilst being attentive, flirty and taking lots of photos of the two of us both on his phone and my camera, made me remember that boys with girlfriends should only occupy the mind when bored at work...and never the heart. In the words of Office Bore, "I ain't inna that, get me"

Anyway - with the prize for best costume getting announced at 4pm today, I personally think my rendition of Cheif Sitting Bull is going to take it.



I know! I can't tell the difference either....