Christmas cheer

December 20, 2007 at 3:28 pm (Day to Day)

My company’s Christmas party went off last night. Saying company makes me feel like a have a little bit more status in the world in which my friends have titles such as PCLC directors and assistant librarian. Both titles are only fancy synonyms for professional facebookers. I could use the title baker, I suppose, but that would only be a euphemism for doughnut jockey. We were given the opportunity to bring friends along, and I could think of no greater connoisseur of free-food mooching than the esteemed Monsieur D.J. de Mendiant.

I was originally told that the party was at Bob’s B-B-Q and when the location was changed to Front Row Joe’s (the big boss) Oak’s edition house, I must not have listened. I blame it on the bad information given to me by my intelligence officers. The Wednesday advent service let out at about six fifty, and the party got underway at seven. I swung by the BSU to get D.J. and headed to Bob’s. We were greeted by a pretty barren building of Ada’s finest. The staff gave a hurricanical hoorah at our arrival. After calling Joe to ascertain where the actual party was taking place we left to the disappointment of the staff. We made our way through the Oak’s. We were riding in D.J.’s, truck with racing stripes. These are to make his truck go faster of course, but I’m sure the cheapest car in that neighborhood costs twice as much as his truck, making all the residents believe we were gangster, causing them to fear for their lives and more importantly, their 70” flat screen televisions and Mercedes. I was now driving through the world of David Brook’s Bobos in Paradise. This was definitely more on the side of the bourgeoisie, which permeated like a mist of money green through the ostentatious and even gaudy Christmas décor and expensive cars. The bohemian influences were there as well, though much more subtle. It probably hard to express a lifestyle that is supposed to be anti-wealth and anti-establishment through money. We pulled up to Joe and his family’s house, greeted by a two story inflatable Frosty the Snowman and Santa Clause. Larger than life isn’t appropriate; large than at least five lives seems more suitable. We parked right behind my coworker’s truck and made it inside to find the festivities already in motion.

The food at least consisted of Bob’s. For some reason, Joe thought it was a good idea to have La Fiesta Mexican and BBQ mixed. Joe and his wife greeted me with hospitality, showing us where the food, the deserts, and the wine/beer was. D.J. and I began our  fierce cadging of the BBQ. All of my coworkers made it, and we sat around chatting it up for a little bit. Only Chester—the dirty old man with the heart of gold and emotional sensitivity of Robert Frost—brought who I thought was his ex-girlfriend. She’s menopausal and I even watched her autobiography not too long ago, American Psycho.  Chester probably weighs about 140lbs. and was absolutely beat purple by this woman. He’s playing the role of the emotionally co-dependant young woman who believes she can change her alcoholic/abusive partner. It’s good to see things working out for them. Joe’s wife, Tammy, had us write down an unknown fact about us on a piece of paper and drop it into a cup for a quick guessing game. It wasn’t as funny as it could be, but it was a fun game. I told the story of  how I burned my house when I was a young lad of three years old. Curiosity killed the cat (literally) as well as causing many thousands of dollars worth of damage. Joe’s was easy to pick out because nobody else would tell a story  that involved a monkey costume and a penis. Tammy’s was also easy—she slept with her boss. Joe once managed a movie theatre in California and actually met Tammy while she was working for him in college. The rest were harder to figure out, ranging from former taxi cab drivers to transgender (as a joke…I assume). Afterwards we played a dice game that netted  us inexpensive gifts Tammy bought and wrapped. She stockpiled the presents on a table and passed two sets of two dice around a circle. A seven or eleven meant a present. After the presents were all distributed, there was a three minute round of thievery. D.J. ended up with zero presents after this round, with me being the culprit. There weren’t any notable presents besides the aforementioned menopausal husband beater getting a douche and a tampon. The douche would have been wonderful had she used it on her mouth.

D.J. and I went up stairs to play with Joe’s eleven year old son and impressive him with our expert skills on guitar hero. It didn’t take long for the party to die down a bit. D.J. and I left but not empty-handed. Joe handed me a goodie bag o’Christmas cheer. Wow, for being such business-minded grinch at times, Joe went all out. Inside of my well-decorated bag laid Christmas joy in the form of a sweat shirt with The Donut Shop stitched into the breast, a bottle of 2005 Beringer Merlot, a $25 gift card to Sushi Nikos in OKC, a $10 gift card to Starbucks, a can of caramel popcorn, and a $50 bill. I had told Joe that the below-freezing weather made it hard to run. I prefer to run in shorts, and can even when it’s cold, but the wind made it impossible. Running in the sweat pants I had didn’t make it too much better; the wind and cold eventually made their way to my legs. I wanted a pair of Under Armour leggings but didn’t want to spend the $50. That explained the $50 bill. I haven’t had booze since September for a number of reasons, and I am not sure what will be the fate of my vintage wine. I might honestly just re-gift it. Due to a much meager present budget, I got Joe a copy of Requiem for a Dream. He still hasn’t gotten it. I told him about the movie a few weeks ago, and he expressed an interest in watching it.


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