The Aftermath

Well I survived the departmental Christmas party relatively unscathed. I made a wise decision to stick to the same drink all day. Red wine was my poison of choice, I tend not to glug red compared to white, and pints of beer disappear far too quickly. The food was also a revelation. Normally when we have these mass lunches the food is either bland, or cold or served appallingly slow. It was organised tremendously well, and the food was both delicious and warm. Normally I am one of the die hards, there till the bitter end and end up arriving home at some unholy hour, only to be woken by the children what seems like minutes after getting into bed. On Friday I managed to find some sort of self-restraint and was at home by 9pm. This scored me some brownie points, as did my ability to pick up Chinese food on the way home. I was slightly the worse for wear, but not as bad as Mrs Zilla feared. It also meant I was bright eyed and bushy tailed come Saturday morning. Thus enabling us to complete the Christmas shopping early before the crowds descended. If I’m honest, my readiness to tackle the shopping was part of my cunning plan to get back home and watch my football team on TV. Still, it was a win win scenario for me and Mrs Zilla. At the Christmas party it appears that one of my team has become involved with the departmental secretary, I only hope this isn’t trouble long term office wise. I even found myself as the centre of attraction to one young lady also at the same bar as us. She was some what intoxicated, but she did help to boost my ego somewhat. Perhaps I am becoming more attractive as I get older, or the ladies are becoming more desperate, or maybe a mix of both. Despite my wedding ring and my declaration that I was married this young lady seemed unwilling to take no for an answer. It was only when I played my trump card, “We’re expecting a baby in 4 weeks”, that she seemed to realise I wasn’t going to succumb to her (not inconsiderable) charms. I was amazed and somewhat disappointed by some of my colleagues reactions. Several of them though I was a lunatic, as the lady in question was clearly “gagging for it”. It becomes more and more clear to me why relationships don’t seem to last as long these days. Although that said I must admit to enjoying the ego boost while it lasted. We also erected our Christmas tree this weekend, with Mrs Zilla adopting a traditional red and gold colour scheme. How long the tree remains intact is yet to be determined. Godzooky 2 appears determined to remove all decorations within reach. I hadn’t realised until this year how protective Mrs Zilla is of her Christmas tree. She appears totally obsessed with stopping Godzooky 2 from touching the tree and it took some intervention from me to let her allow Godzooky 1 assist in decorating the tree. This year is the first time he’s shown any interest in helping decorate, but Mrs Zilla was reluctant to let him help, as “He’ll put the decorations in the wrong place”. I found this a little baffling, as it’s only decorating a tree, but apparently there is a specified way of placing the ornaments. I may have found part of Mrs Zilla’s anal retentiveness. I managed to convince her to let him help, and then she could adjust the ornaments accordingly once he was in bed!