My work is currently holding an office-wide holiday party in the conference room a few feet away from my cubicle. I am not invited. I must man the phones in case irate alumni call looking to make me feel (even more) bad about myself. I liken this situation to the one in Russia in the early 20th century. The masses (me) are getting angrier and angrier at the bourgeoisie. I can hear their boisterous laughter and smell the crudité as I type this. They stuff their mouths with the peanut dipping sauce I so graciously picked ceramic shards out of earlier today, and I sit here, dejected and rejected. It is time to throw off these shackles and rise up against them, those people who seek to keep me from the office holiday party. I am full of glory! I will triumph! But really, I will just sit here and bitch on my blog that almost no one reads. I bet that peanut sauce tastes so fucking good.
PS. DISCLAIMER: This is a joke pleasedontfireme.