Where to even begin?

I'm currently drinking an organic Tempranillo and eating extra aged white cheddar with rice crackers while Michael runs around trying to fit his life into mine.
So... work is shit.  Like, wake up at 4am and start thinking about it and not fall back asleep at all until it's time to go to work kind of shit.  I don't want to get into the minutiae about it - unfortunately Michael and R have been the recent recipients of that - but I'll just say that, nearly four years ago when my employer was considering hiring me, the controller expressed his fear that I would be bored working there.  I assured him that I would be a consummate employee and yadda, yadda, yadda.
Let's just say that, four years ago?  I believed I could do it.  Recent evidence suggests otherwise.
I have always had problems with authoritative figures.  I have always had issues doing things a certain way which I found to be wasteful or unfair.  I have always held a certain amount of contempt for management that was totally out of touch with the day to day activity of their staff.
Anyways, the next few weeks should be interesting.  I'd say the odds are: 30% I get fired; 25% I find a new job; 55% I keep on keeping on.
Moving is exhausting (for Michael, mostly).  We have to be out by the end of the month and my stuff was moved a couple of weeks ago.  This weekend looks like it'll be a blitz to clear out the residuals from Michael's apartment and clean it and scrub it and make it look tidy for his gulag landlady.  Man that woman is odd.
I suppose the only other interesting thing occurring (besides the guy that always seems to place his yoga mat behind me and to the right) is Michael's impending Christmas party, which is this Friday.
Apparently it's Wednesday and I still don't know what I'm wearing.  Mostly I don't care, but for the fact that it's his coworkers that I am appearing in front of and not mine.
Because I don't really care how I dress (case in point: the tank top I bought at Old Navy to wear under their sweaters which I thought was an extra small which was actually an extra large, but which I still continue to wear under their sweaters), I don't have much in the "fancy dress" department.
I tried on a bunch of stuff I did have on hand.  There was: the dress that looks like I stole it from a 14 year old private school girl; the dress I wore for a photo shoot with Typewriter (the pic of which I posted on my blog leading someone to ask if I was pregnant); a dress that looks like I stole it from a 45 year old business exec that runs half marathons but also has two kids; and the dress that I bought over a decade ago which still fits, but barely.
What did fit is a "Pretty Woman" little number which is... little.  But it's also Max Studio.  And it fits.  But I don't know how to whore it down.  It's a mid-thigh, sleeveless little jobby so I'm thinking if I just wear some really bright tights and a funky scarf, no one will notice that I'm a footwear and hairstyle change away from working the DTES.
Basically I just don't care.  I just want to get this move over with and then I will shit on my desk, overturn it and set it on fire, which will be okay because I will be able to live off the proceeds that I'll be making in coat check room at Michael's party.
What what?