I try not to go to parties. I’m better at chit-chat than I used to be, but still not very good. I just end up feeling awkward and ill-at-ease, and wondering how much more of this contractual obligation I’ll be forced to endure. But, of course, sometimes you just can’t get out of it. And I’m mostly talking about work-related boolshit.
Today I’d like to briefly tell you about a few memorable things that happened during work Christmas parties I’ve attended, and turn it over to you guys to do the same. It doesn’t necessarily have to be work-related, although those are usually the most cringe-worthy. It could be family parties that descended into drunken fistfights, or private parties that came fully and completely off the rails. Just please share any holiday party horror stories you’ve collected along the way. And I thank you in advance.
In Atlanta they had a big shindig upstairs in the conference room one year at work. The booze was flowing, which was surprising, since that company was always paranoid about liability, etc. In any case, there was a woman there who was about as straitlaced as they come. She was very churchy and dressed like a librarian, circa 1956. Early in the evening Toney and I noticed her drinking, which seemed out of character. Interesting.
After a while she was getting all flirty with her boss, putting her hands all over him and whatnot. It was an amazing thing to behold. Then, about 90 minutes in, there was a loud WOOOOO!!, and everybody turned to see what was going on. That chinless woman did about three full spins as she entered the dance floor with her hands above her head, and proceeded to thrust and grind and go completely to town with it. Her vagina was pumping forward and backward like a piece of industrial machinery, and I don’t think I stopped laughing until sometime early the next day.
Also in Atlanta, a few years earlier, I was in a dark place, my friends. My girlfriend and I had recently broken up, and I was in a state of despair. The party that year was at a concert venue called Center Stage, and the open bars were doing a turnaway business. At one point I was thoroughly intoxicated and talking to some woman who worked at Geffen Records. I sorta knew her, but not really. And I said something along the lines of “Hey, whenever you wise up and ditch that bag of shit,” gesturing toward her antlers-wearing date, who could’ve been her husband for all I knew, “give me a call.”
WTF?? The look on her face was horrifying, and every time I thought about it over the next few days, which was pretty much all the time… my body would go into a full clench. Who did I think I was? I can’t pull off that kind of thing. I’m Jeff Kay, and have a VERY limited range. The amazing thing? She called me, and we went out a few times. Unfortunately, she found me intriguing at first, then (I’m connecting the dots) vulgar and repulsive. Pass the beer nuts.
Finally, in California the company’s CEO would open his mansion every December to us home office peasants, and Toney and I went a couple of times. The house overlooked the ocean, was roughly the size of my hometown, and had a giant fountain in the middle, like something from a Las Vegas hotel. They always had magicians and fortune tellers there, and all sorts of incredible food and drink.
During the first year Toney’s friend Renee got 100% shitfaced on White Russians and was stumbling around the patio with a cig dangling off her lips. She was trying to find someone with matches or a lighter, and we were grimacing like Gilbert Gottfried watching it all unfold. Eventually she approached a group of older women, and one of them informed her that smoking was not allowed. And Renee said, “Yeah, thanks for nothing, bitch.”
Unfortunately, she was talking to the CEO’s wife. And… Renee left the company soon thereafter. She wasn’t forced out, but was reportedly told it might be a good move for her. Heh.
And now it’s your turn. Do you have anything to add? If so, use the comments section. Also, please don’t forget to pass through one of our Amazon links while doing your holiday shopping. ‘Tis the season for constant reminders!
I’ll see you guys again soon.