Today the office celebrated its 12th annual Manwich Day with the usual pomp and circumstance. Three hours later I’m desperately trying to stay awake in the midst of a Manwich coma, and there’s no way in hell my button-up plaid shirt is going to stay buttoned anytime soon. I am filled with Manwich. Thick, rich, reddish-brown Manwich.

As usual, Manwich Day officially starts with the “Blessing of the Pots,” which is traditionally performed by the “Earl of Manwich.” However, since the original Earl’s (Nate) departing, we are left, uh, Earl-less. One of our co-workers has kind of been filling in for the past few years, but judging from his less-than-enthusiastic attitude regarding all that is Earl, his days as fill-in might be numbered. At any rate, the Earl blesses the pots with a quick, poignient speech, and then we (the Manwich partakers) bust out with the Manwich Song, which goes something like this:

(sung to the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree”)

Oh Manwich Day, Oh Manwich Day,
Oh how we love your zestiness!
Your sauce so thick
In wintertime,
And Nancy’s beef
Is past its prime
Oh Manwich Day, Oh Manwich Day,
Oh how we love your zestiness!
Though you dwell,
Inside a can,
You’re more gourmet
Than most can stand
Oh Manwich Day, Oh Manwich Day,
Oh how we love your zestiness!
(part of the uncensored version, written by Nate himself):
A boy named Nate,
Grew strong on you,
We don’t use pork
’cause he’s a Jew
Oh Manwich Day, Oh Manwich Day,
Oh how we love your zestiness!
After we’ve sung the Manwich song, we are free to dive into the many bubbling-hot crock pots of Manwich. Several people actually have thought-out plans of attack for Manwich: there’s the Open-Facer (top and bottom part of hamburger bun piled high with Manwich), the Traditional (small hamburger bun with normal helping of Manwich), the Big Boy (big hamburger bun topped with hefty portion of Manwich), and The Straw Hat (bun-less Manwich glopped onto a plate of Frito chips). Needless to say, I dived right in with a Big Boy, topped with coleslaw and shredded cheese. Mama. Conversely, my hubby (who works with me) always starts with an Open-Facer.

Currently the record for most-consumed Manwich stands at thirteen, set by a former employee who was with our department for only a year. No one has dared to break this record since, or even come close to it. I think the second highest record is eight, set by Sam. What’s my personal record, you ask? I’m pretty sure it’s four. But I have only had two the past couple years. I’m not as verile as I used to be.

So, dear friends, yet another Manwich Day comes to a close. And in truth, this event is really what herolds the upcoming holiday season for us in Creative.

Happy Manwich Day to all, and to all…gentle digestion.