Eris,
Grant me the strength to not stick a fork in the Owner’s eyeball tonight as he begins his fifteenth ‘joke’ of the night. Remind me that he is invoking the sacred Dean Martin roasts of old, and that a bad sense of humour is better than no sense of humour at all.
Although just barely.
Grant me the strength to smile tight-lipped and with clenched teeth while I pretend to be nice to the yahoos I work with. Remind me that work is work and life is life and never the two shall meet.
Grant me the strength to hold back the spicey comments I have been holding inside for the better part of two years once the liquid-personality begins to flow. Remind me that I am a Discordian and not a Dionysian.
XMas parties are the work of the devil. Get thee behind me, Santa.
Hail Eris, please Grant Me Strength.
