In an act of ill-advised booze-haggery, Jodee necks two bottles of Yellowglen Pink while getting ready for her work Christmas party. She squeezed into a tight dress and combined with her high heels she pulls off the unique look of a half-fed Python crossed with a cheap escort you would only consider bringing to a soft opening of a new Hungry Jack’s restaurant.
Within minutes of entering the function room, Jodee has a glass of bubbly in her hand and is making flirtatious chit-chat with a couple of managers. The pot-bellied leer-lords take a big bite out of the cleavage buffet on offer and whisper inappropriate nothings to her.
Each greasy conversational morsel has her giggling like Prince Andrew on an island holiday and she starts to rapidly consume her drink. Like Epstein’s spinal cord it never stood a chance and she finishes it off at breakneck speed.
In all the excitement she loses control of her drink. It smashes on the floor and an office primate yells “taxi” while a flurry of designated drivers and office matriarchs swarm upon the glassy hazard.
Jodee is too drunk to feel shame and decides to make her move on the top-knotted fuckdick who cycles to work and talks about his abs in public. He is unimpressed with Jodee’s ungracious slurrying and snidely encourages her to “take it easy”.
She drowns her sorrows, and in a rapid landslide of emotion, her face begins resembling the Joker after a particularly voluminous bukake session. Her work friends console the blubbering mess while she serenades them with a sonnet of self-pity.
A colleague from Scarborough has the medicine, “get the girl an eXpresso martini!” (and a bump of gear she got for agreeing to take some bikini titty pics for a car magazine).
It’s like she detonated a weapon of mass woooo-struction and Jodee returns as a turbocharged cougar. She hits the d-floor and showcases dance moves that she pioneered while being grinded on at 3 am at The Clink.
Luckily for all, the music cuts out for the speeches. Red-faced directors slur out a few insincere pleasantries, and then the bubbly office manager grabs the mic to make an announcement, “congratulations to Kim and Mike on their engagement!”
Jodee feels the jealous clock on her biological time bomb explode, “HA! I Sucked him off at the End of Financial Year do! HA”. Sweet Jesus of cringe. The room is tenser than the bicep in a gym selfie.
Jodee’s entire cohort is staring at her while she puts the final touch on her disasterpiece: a power-yak all over the pin-striped bum-groper standing uncomfortably close to her.
The next day, Jodee experiences the holy trinity of the loser: hungover, jobless and shamed. Looks like it’ll have to be another Chrisco Christmas hamper this year ay, Jodee?
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?