Children of the 80s

I have a ghastly confession.

Our office is broken essentially into three rooms each holding a handful of desks, and thus each nutures its own subculture and unique identity. While the front office is quite girly, very cheerful and often well informed on cultural matters - the box office is a more laid back group usually associated with the wry british humour and a lot of bitching.

And we are the back office. Consisting of the artsy programming ones (like me) combined the tech guys who make our dreamy work exist in a never ending list of spreadsheets and quantifyable realities. It is a world of opposites united by our griping, love of pringles, and an odd array of guilty pleasures.

And our new tradition (inpired by a truly outstanding office secret santa gift to my esteemed colleague) has taken root and will possibly change our lives.

Power Ballad Friday. Every friday from three.

Finish out the working week with Cher, Queen, Genesis including a lifetime of memories and naff hand motions.

And of course, moments of great edification. Below is a sample of our machinacinations

- pub quiz like betting on what year Mad Max 3: Beond Thunder Dome came out (obvbiously at the instigation of a certain Ms. Turner)

- thumbs up/thumbs down on if Amy Winehouse is more talented than Britney Spears (thumbs up) eventhough she's just been committed to an asylum of sorts (thumbs even considering Britney's comperable downward spiral)

- a meatloaf/ jack black-as-dewey finn compare and contrast

- the confession someone got broken up with during a power ballad that shall not be named

-an entire debate on the feasibilty of the plot of Mighty Ducks 3 (and the Junior Olympics face off with the nasty Russians) instigated at the opening lines of "We are the Champions" - which everyone knows is the turning point in the first film that makes their unbelieveable success on and off the ice possible.

I love it.