Oh, God. This again?

 
Lesson One: Misanthropy
Michelle and I are not naturally social creatures. I mean, when you take us out of our comfortable environments, we’re likely to be pretty quiet . . . and maybe a little rude. Here are three examples of things that may or may not have occurred Friday night at my office's annual Christmas dinner:

-- As we were driving to the dinner, I said, “I hate people.” Not “I hate slow drivers” or “I hate people who drive slow,” just “I hate people.” Michelle replied, “Not as much as I do.” (Or, perhaps, it was “Not as much as I hate people,” which is even better. Really, my short-term memory is that bad. Literally five seconds after the words passed her lips, I thought, “Hey, maybe I’ll ‘blog that.” And then I couldn’t remember what her exact words were. Is this when you people just invent shit that was said? Julia? C-dub?)

-- When we go to these type functions, we spend an inordinate amount of time talking to each other, rather than other people. Yes, some of it is low-grade, passive-aggressive domestic banter, but most of it is just us lamenting various stages of the evening’s itinerary. Or making fun of people. Just know that if we talk to you at one of these forced-politeness-a-thon’s, it’s because we genuinely want to talk to you. Or you happen to be sitting at our table. (I think a lot of my enthusiasm about going boils down to it being an excuse to wear one of my two suits---which happens once or twice a year---and getting to eat good catering.)

-- We’re stingy. We were one of the first couples there and, after debating a few minutes (and looking at the sadly monolithic* wine selection at the “bar”), we decided to drive to the house to get our champagne**. Which we shared with (almost) no-one. Before driving home to get the champagne, we’d also flirted with bringing back one of Michelle’s bottles of Patron. Which we did. But we left it in the car to (perhaps) be brought out later. Which we never did. Even after I’d repeatedly mentioned getting it and pouring shots for people at the table.

Look, we’re really not bad people. Once we get to know you, we’re almost normal, funny even, in these social situations. But in awkward work-related bring-your-spouse functions, I find that I’m socially retarded and Michelle refuses to fake being pleasant. This all adds up to Certain Doom™ for Michelle’s work party this Saturday.***


* There were about a dozen bottles of wine . . . all of then either Chardonnay, Merlot, or some sort of Cabernet. I guess I need to broaden my horizons and learn to enjoy something red and/or dry (especially after *** below).

** The regional V.P. just asked me, “Hey, did you guys finish that bottle of champagne the other night?” To which I replied, “We finished it before dinner.”

*** You might remember how I threw up there last year.

shaken and poured by Scott-san at 2:21 PM