The Monday after the open-bar company Christmas party. PGP.

Thinking about asking for a new pillow for Christmas. PGP.

Having to explain yourself more than once. PGP.

My life is now basically just waiting until I get to go to sleep again and then not being able to fall asleep when that time comes. PGP.

Your coworkers assuming your corpse-like state is from weekend partying, not actually being sick. PGP.

I went first in white elephant. PGP.

Work Christmas party is a cash bar. PGP.

Another day, another 50 résumés sent. PGP.

All I want for Christmas is a career change. PGP.

Staying late so no one catches you taking meeting leftovers home for dinner. PGP.

“Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, kiss my ass, kiss his ass, kiss your ass, Happy Hanukkah.” PGP.

I can’t drink margaritas anymore because of the heartburn. PGP.