Monday, December 11, 2006

A Holiday Party Story

What to do on the evening of the office holiday party when it is being held in a snooty pooty “we have to welcome you here today because you are paying a butt load of money but normally you would not dare to grace our presence because you are a serf and serf-dom is far from dead” place and you are the poor unfortunate who planned the party…

Practice drinking ONLY one glass of wine, after all, you don’t want people to think you are a lush and practice makes perfect. Start with the Costco wine in a box and the 20 ounce Jellystone Park tumbler. Look down and realize that there is no way on god’s green earth that you will be able to tackle the hair on your legs with your everyday razor which has not been used in weeks. Bemusedly imagine the look on everyone’s face if you decided not to shave your legs and wore the skirt and nylons. Go out to the garage and look through the jumble of power tools because surely, Black and Decker has made a tool for an occasion like this.

Yogi Bear tumbler is empty. Grab the orbital sander and wander back into the house for your second practice run at drinking only one glass of wine. Realize the tumbler you are drinking from looks a tad tacky. Grab the 40 ounce thermal jug/cup from the Holiday gas station down the road. Fill’er up…

Carrying the orbital sander and the thermal jug o’wine, wander upstairs to investigate the wardrobe. Begin laughing hysterically as you realize that you haven’t worn a dress since the last holiday party and the dress you wore last year is a couple sizes to small now since you got the new washing machine and all of your clothing has shrunk in the past six months. Grab an oreo cookie from the open bag by your bed and dunk it in the wine as you contemplate your options.

Plug in the orbital sander. Turn it on. Isn’t it cool??? Finish off the jug of wine and consider that if you took off your skin to the bone on your legs, you might be excused from the party. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be. Go downstairs and refill the jug. Practicing to be a responsible drinker can take some people years. Congratulate yourself on your persistence.

Set the orbital sander aside and use your razor instead. Shave your legs three times each, changing the razor blade between each session. Realize that most people need a transfusion when they have spilled two pints of blood. Try to estimate just how much blood is on the bathroom floor and whether it is the wine or the blood loss that is making you dizzy.

Next step, the nylons. You really don’t want to put little blobs of toilet paper over all the lacerations on your legs and then put on the nylons so you opt for band aids. Amazingly enough, you find some decade old Mickey Mouse band aids in the back of the medicine cabinet. You run out of band aids after using 15 but you figure the smaller cuts will stop bleeding soon. You wonder what size the nylon company will come up with after the Queen 2 size as you lay on the bedroom floor wrestling with the individual legs of the nylons. Is re-apportioning fat really the best way to go? Is it healthy that your ear lobes swell up when you wear control top? And how in the hell did my right leg get wrapped around my neck?

Next come the shoes. Shoes are easy and there is your shoe collection under the foot of the bed. Your collection of two pairs. One pair is incredibly small, the other incredibly ugly. Opt for the incredibly small pair which also are very dangerous to wear on ice. Remind yourself to BE CAREFUL tonight. Wipe the dust bunny off your right shoe…oh, that’s not a dust bunny. Remind yourself to get the cat some hairball medicine.

Take a minute to go downstairs and refill your jug. Note that the wine box is empty. And a little blurry.

Go back upstairs, tripping halfway there. Notice that you just put a run in your nylons.

When it comes to wardrobe, you have a choice between a summer dress with a turtle neck underneath which looks like you are seasonally challenged, or a dark skirt and an ugly sweater. Opt for the ugly sweater. Sort through your jewelry box for an appropriate accessory. You come up with a match box car and a Thomas train. Opt for the Thomas train.

Look into the mirror and curse your recent haircut (that you got for free because you had a coupon.) Grab the hairspray and try to tame it into submission. Realize 45 seconds into the spray job that you have picked up your daughter’s colored hairspray. Determine that lime green hair actually makes the ugly sweater look a lot better. Finish off the last tester jug of wine.

Yup. Lime green is definitely your color.

Gather your driver’s license, Kleenex, and cyanide tablet and put them in your coat pocket. Your everyday handmade felted purse that you call your “hippie bag” probably won’t pass the sniff test at the private club where the party is being held. Come to think of it, you probably won’t pass the sniff test either. Throw a handful of Altoids in your mouth on the way out the door.

Very, very carefully, back the car out of the garage. The screeching sound of metal coming from somewhere must be a new band on the alternative music station your kids listen to. Turn the radio off. Oh wait, it wasn’t on.

Drive twenty miles an hour hunched over the wheel with your eyes scrunched up because everyone knows that this is the position that allows you to drive safely after copious consumption of “practice” wine.

Take 15 minutes to parallel park between the Bemer and the Lexus. Hope that the rusted bumper won’t fall off when you slam the door on the way out of the vehicle.

Remember to walk carefully down the dangerously sloping icy driveway. Get halfway there when your thoughts are diverted for a moment when you see your boss arrive at the front door of the club.

Step on that next patch of ice and know in an instant that you are finally screwed. Your body goes entirely parallel with the ground. You fall backwards and upon impact, slide down the remainder of the driveway and end up at your bosses feet with your skirt hiked past your shoulders, your nylons torn to shreds, your Mickey band aids peeling off, and your green hair resting in the puddle of cheap wine and vomit that has erupted from your mouth.

Look up at the crystal clear sky and the twinkling stars and realize that it is a beautiful night.

1 comment:

Guinifer said...

Boy, I'm hoping for your sake that most of this was an exaggeration for the sake of humour. Holy cow! (If it was, it worked - the humour, that is.