That I can't drink, obviously. Wine is the thing I've missed most while being pregnant. And God knows there have been days where I desperately needed it. Wine and not being able to fit in my size 4 pants anymore ::sigh:: I'm not complaining, seriously. It is kind of exciting that I can't fit in the same pants that I was wearing just last week.
Anyway, so one of our vendors brought us bottles of champagne today. It was the best thing that has happened to me at work in the past two weeks, and I can't even enjoy it. Meh. Whatever. I have more important things on my mind today. Like growing a set of balls. Seriously.
Last year, our regional manager* let her office staff go home after a half day the day before Christmas Eve. She called our office and said that everyone could go, except for one person. So my (ex)friend and I had to choose which one of us would stay and which would go. We both volunteered, but since it was techinically her property she said she would stay. I felt so guilty that I stayed for another two hours, then said that I would take this Christmas if we were given the option to go home early again.
So here we are, a few days before Christmas. My job situation is quickly deteriorating, and I've lost a friend because of it. And I'm pretty damn sure that because we are at least on speaking terms, she is going to expect me to stay. Now since I haven't blogged the long boring story, let's just put it this way- in the four years that I've worked here, I've never been written up or given a bad review. I've had both in the past two weeks, as well as the demotion and pay cut. Funny how it all happened right around the time I told them I was pregnant. But I won't go there for now, since it isn't really relevant to this story.
My initial reaction is "screw you, your raise, and your Christmas plans." The day of, I will probably hang my head and agree to stay. Because I am weak, and I am a sucker, and even though I am one hell of a bitch, I just can't be overtly mean to someone. To which my husband replies:
"Tell that bitch all prior acts and agreements of friendship are null and void after she stabbed you in the back."
I love that man. And since I know he would give me the sun, moon, and the stars if I wanted, I asked "May I borrow your balls? Promise I will return them."
Although I gave it up willingly, a glass of champagne would be lovely right now. And if anyone has any suggestions on what I should do (suck it up and stay, tell her to kiss my ever-widening ass), please feel free to enlighten me!
*Just thought I should mention that my regional is an extremely miserable person. She is pathetic, really. The only reason I refrain from calling her a bitch is because that would imply a certain level of intelligence, which I do not believe she is in possession of. She stays late at work everyday because her husband is a fucktard and they don't like each other. Oh, and she has no style and bad (as if there were good) 80's hair.
