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Saturday, November 29, 2014

An Introvert's Guide to Christmas Parties

“Goodnight!” I said to Kyles at 8:00 am yesterday morning.

“What are you talking about, Pinky?” she screwed her face up at me.

“Well Kyles, you always tell me I nick off and leave the staff Christmas party without saying goodbye to you so I’m saying goodbye now.”

It’s true. I have a terrible habit of reaching the critical point of my ability to mingle and be nice to people in social situations, urgently tap Scotto on the shoulder and do the bolt. A bit like Cinderella I suppose. But like a fat, old Cinderella… and I usually need to flee the scene at about ten o’clock, not midnight like my glass slipper wearing sister.

It has something to do with being an introvert I think. I can only put on the vivacious act for a limited amount of time before crashing like a cheap Dell computer.

Our Christmas party last night, consisting of 120-ish teachers and staff, was organised by the inexhaustible Kyles and the efficient, capable Kaz. 

Scotto and I created the slide show which has been our special job for the last six years. Can you believe they trust us?

A couple of years ago we had a Hollywood theme and Scotto made up about twenty Photoshopped movie posters. This was what he did with ours…

Pinky and Scotto

Three of my colleagues look so much like the actors we could barely tell them apart.

Kaz as Liz Hurley

Kristen as Diane Lane

O'Reilly as Ben Stiller

This year we went for a Game of Thrones theme and kept repeating shelved, corny jokes about our colleague, J.B. (Hodor) much to the delight of the half-pissed crowd.

JB as Hodor!

Our table consisted of the usual suspects.

(L-R top) Kaz, Troy, Liam, Scotto, O'Reilly
                            (bottom) Pinky, Lee-lee, Jenna, Shazza, Kyles!

And of course the girls had to have a special photo taken.


Scotto accidentally put chocolate sauce on his roast beef at the buffet (I know this sounds like more of Pinky's made up bollocks but it's true).

Roast Beef a la Nestle

He ate it anyway.
I explained to O’Reilly why us sheilas hate the moustaches blokes grow for Movember (even though we know it’s for a good cause). 

“You know us girls can grow moustaches in Fanuary!” chimed in Lee-lee.

“Where would we grow them?” I asked innocently.

Apparently it really is a thing...

Ahhhh… a fine time was had by all.

But sure enough at ten o’clock the panic set in. I looked around and suddenly there were too many people in the room, too much noise and I began to perspire.

I started thinking about how sick and hung-over I’d be the next morning if I wasn’t tucked in my bed within the next half hour.

I found Scotto and poked him in the ribs; the secret signal.

“You’re not going PINKY!” screamed Lee-lee. “It’s only about frickin… six o’clock, you slacker!”

Kyles caught wind of my planned exodus and immediately put me in a head lock.

“Say goodbye!” she threatened. “Say goodbye to me Pinky or I’ll never talk to you again.”

So I did. 

And I was tucked in bed by ten-thirty.

Today, as I sit here in a frail physical condition, sucking on an icy pole in an attempt to loosen my dehydrated tongue from the roof of my mouth, I wonder how come I wound up with a bloody hangover anyway.

Do you go home early from parties or are you a dirty stop out?