Raise your steins.

It's been a busy week, so I haven't had much time to post, but here I am for a quick shot before the weekend!

Tomorrow is the day my friends and I attend that glorious event: Wurstfest! Yes, it is time again for the 10-day salute to sausage. Since I'm too old for 10 continuous days of beer and my figure would suffer irreparable harm from 10 straight days of sausage, I just participate in a 1-day salute, but I do my best to make that one day count!

I'm very excited about the many food booths, the rides and the oompah music. Ziggy Zoggy, Ziggy Zoggy, Oy! Oy! Oy! Maybe I should start shouting that out at the office just to practice.

Speaking of the office, I saw on my boss's calendar that he, also, intends to be at Wurstfest tomorrow. This is unacceptable. When I am not at work, I like to pretend I don't actually have to work - the office and all that goes with it do not exist - I am an independently wealthy free spirit whose time is her own. Intrusions into my personal life from work-related people and situations shatters my fantasy. Also, there's that "professionalism" thing. At work, I put on a "professional" hat. I'm quiet. I'm adult. I'm reasonable. When some psycho from another department acts like a wretch, I repress the urge to beat her with a stick like I'd like to and instead I say things like, "I probably didn't make myself clear when I told you I needed that today. It's probably my fault. I'm sure you're right that 'I need that Tuesday' was ambiguous and I'm totally inconsiderate of your time. I probably *should* be fired, as you suggest. If you were the manager here, everything would be so much smoother. But I do actually need that today, so if you could make that happen, you'd be a rock star. You're the best. I wish I were you."

But when I'm not at work, I like to be myself. I like to drink beer and sing loudly. I like to dance like a Solid Gold dancer and I'm not afraid to look stupid (in the name of humor - I'm not a huge fan of just looking stupid in general). I don't wear "office clothes" and when some psycho causes me grief, I say things like, "What the hell is wrong with you?" My friends and family can't imagine the work me. They think it's an alternate universe when I tell them stories of my heroic self-restraint on the job. My friends are who I can complain to about work and the people who annoy me there.

So, you can imagine why the possibility of running into my boss at a beer-soaked salute to sausage with my friends could be...undesired. I've thought about how to handle it if I see him. I've decided the best approach is to gaslight him.

My boss: "Suzanne? Hey there! Are you having fun?"

Me, funny hat on my head, sausage on a stick in one hand, beer in the other, pupils slightly dilated: "Excuse me?"

"Are you having fun? Here at Wurstfest."

"I'm not at Wurstfest."

"Ha, ha! How much have you had to drink?"

"Nothing. I'm at home on my couch drinking a Coke and watching football. I can see that you think I'm at Wurstfest, but I'm not. You're not actually seeing me."

"What?"

"I'm a figment. In fact, I'm not convinced you're actually there either. Am I wearing a hat? If so, you're just dreaming. Wake up! Wake up!"

If I do it with enough conviction, it could work.