Christmas Porn

I went into work on Christmas Eve because my boss said it was urgent. It didn't occur to me that it was Christmas Eve and we're a tax office, nothing is important unless it's in April or October. But my boss has mind control voodoo so I ran over there like a surgeon about to preform emergency open-heart surgery on a child the Jews are calling the real Jesus.

Here's what happened:

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

"We need to talk about the porno."

" . . . "

And that's when I went into a coma-like state and simultaneously tried to remember if I've ever looked at porn at work, and if I had why would I be stupid enough to leave a trail on my work computer of all places, I must have gotten distracted by a meeting or something and left some site running that magically spread itself through the office network and onto everyone else's computer so that suddenly my romantic-porn (I wish!) was thrusting itself on everybody's screen, ruining their spreadsheets, but hopefully brightening their day a little because if I was looking at porn at work it would be more like soft porn, with a good storyline and romantic kissing, and would not have as much spitting (spitting! really?) as normal porn, and at the end it would have like a half an hour of cuddling (if I felt like it) and the production of a positive pregnancy test.

And because of all this I had to come in on Christmas Eve, because she found my porn and was going to fire me before Christmas so that she wouldn't have to do it on Christmas in front of the whole family, which I thought was very generous of her. Never mind the fact that I'm well aware that I have never actually looked at porn at work, nor would I, I'm not even sure what to do if someone asked me to find porn, I'd probably just Google 'Megan Fox' and see what came up. Once when I was staying at Gige's house I googled "gay male porn" and left it up on her husband's laptop hoping to stir up some shit, but they didn't even blink. I'm apparently becoming predictable.

And also never mind the fact that no one wants to hear their Grandma say "porno" on Christmas Eve. (She also said it at Christmas dinner by the way) (And she's not crazy, that's just how she tells stories - with an 'o' at the end of words, to make them sound even more creepy than they already are) (and 'the porno' because it's so severe it needs to be addressed the same way she addresses 'The AIDS' or 'The Chinese' - like they can all be grouped into one.)

So anyway, as I sat there for what seemed to be yeeeeeeears trying to get myself out of something I hadn't even done she said:

"We need to do better bookkeeping."

". . . Yes?"

"Because one of my clients had a porno charged to them every month and they didn't know and I don't want that to happen."

"Ok-"

"Ok, now are you coming in tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas."

**Big heavy eye-roll-y sigh**

"So I guess that means you're taking the day off?"

You bet your ass I'm taking the day off. Like my porno is gonna watch itself?! I don't think so.