My My My My My Boogie Shoes

I decided that I needed to take measures to ensure that I would not end up getting drunk enough to mug the DJ for his microphone last night at the office Christmas party. So, I decided to see if my neighbor/coworker S wanted to ride to the party with me. Being a designated driver would certainly work to curb my thirst. And aid my behavior. Well...half of that's right anyway.

The night started out pretty sedate. No one was dancing, the music was too loud, and people were mingling. Rather than a 400 year old DJ a la last year, we had a 55 year old one that closely resembled the dancing guy from the Six Flags commercials. The turnout was about twice what it was last year, and this time all my favorite people were there. Which would later be my demise. As usual, I'm too lazy to actually string together a narrative, so let's just skip to the bullets.

• My favorite surgical fellow came up to me early in the evening and asked who the big dancers were going to be. Little did he know, he was talking to one. Toward the end of the night, he came back up to me. "Hey Sam, I'm leaving. I just wanted you to know that I'll never be able to look at you the same way again." Score.
• Okay, I have to tell you a slightly old story so that you'll understand this one. About a month ago, I was in an OR with Dr. E and that surgical fellow. I was scrubbed in retracting the liver for them when it all of a sudden became very obvious to me that I was going to pass out. I immediately broke scrub and made it to the doctors lounge before losing consciousness. I ended up having someone get me some food and juice and eventually was well enough to go back to work in the OR. Here's a tip: Don't forget to eat. Also, probably don't lock your knees. Anyway, that surgery took place during an early morning. So, on the way out of the hospital, Dr. E asked me how long I'd had this morning sickness. Blah blah blah pregnancy jokes. I think his goal is to get this rumor to somehow circle back to my mother and give her a heart attack. So, last night, in front of my boss he walks right up to me and puts his hand on my stomach. "Sam, you're not even showing." Here's another tip: don't call a surgeon/your organization's medical director a "punkface." Also, don't try to make him do the cha cha slide.
• I spent the majority of the night dancing. Because that is what I do. Apparently alcohol doesn't really make much of a difference on that front. Because I only had 2 drinks all night, and still was getting down. Seriously.
• When not dancing, I spent most of my time trying to get a certain picture taken. You see, my boss has an intraoffice romance. He's dating a chick in the office that dresses like everyday is Halloween. And her costume is typically "gypsy." Except ironically enough on Halloween when she dressed like a chick from "Grease." Whatever. She went to the Tammy Faye Baker school of cosmetology, and styles her hair every morning by sticking her finger in a socket. Also, she has the IQ of a potato. She drives me crazy. And then about a week ago, she walked into the office. And her hair had gotten about a foot longer. And half of it had changed colors. Apparently someone discovered the fake hair kiosk at the Galleria. And someone thought their dirty blonde hair was actually red. Everytime she walks in, I can't stop laughing. She looks like a fox bit her on the head and died there. So, I've been trying to find an excuse to take a picture of her. We all have those Treo cameras, but since she's only worn the ponytail sporadically, she'll probably figure out that's why we want the picture. And you don't want to be mean to the boss's girlfriend. So last night I was on a mission. I was going to get a picture of the elusive fake ponytail. And I succeeded. It was great. S got in the picture with her....absolutely hilarious. My friend with the camera has to email me the shots...I'm debating posting it here. We'll see how it turns out...it might be too good not to post.
• Because I was driving, I wasn't really affected by the bartender. But there were some serious complaints. The party was open bar...and at my organization, people take full advantage. People get t-r-a-s-h-e-d. Last time we had a party, I was in charge of bringing the receipt to my boss the next day. "Who ordered 32 kamikazes?!" That level of alcoholism rages in my workplace. Which is always fun. So last night, my friend Liz arrived late and so was waaay behind everyone else on the drinking. I was close to the bar, so she asked me to grab her a vodka tonic from across the room. The bartender saw her mouth the request and mouthed back at her that she'd have to drink a glass of water. She told me she'd only had two drinks, and she didn't want water. So I relayed this to the bartender. "Don't care. It's water or nothing." The bartender started making everyone drink water before giving them another glass of alcohol. The theory was that since it was open bar on the company, no one brought cash, and thus no one was tipping the bartender. And he was getting us back. Regardless, one of my friends said he couldn't dance cause he had so much water sloshing around in his belly. Stupid bartender. :-p
• Because I wasn't drunk, I was ready to go about an hour before S. But I stuck around cause he was dancing up a storm. A little factoid about S: he has some issues...like serious issues. Anxiety issues, sexual orientation issues, anger issues...but i love him. However, these issues lead to him getting a DUI last year. And resulted in a parole officer and a visceral hatred for policemen. Not because of the DUI thing, but because of the parole thing. Which I can kind of understand. He goes to meet the parole officer once a month at the same time as a rapist, a multiple-convicted drug dealer, and a murderer. Seriously. I don't know why these people aren't in jail. Whatever. So, I'm driving us home last night and he is drunk. And I am not. But I have had a couple drinks over several hours. And of course, we happen into a roadblock. License check. My neighbor is f-reaking out. I dont know the terms of his parole, but he makes it seem like maybe he shouldn't even be drunk in the passenger seat. We pull up to the officer, he gets my license and calls it in, and says "Ma'am, have you been drinking tonight?" "No sir." "Sir, have you been drinking tonight?" "No sir." *sweat dripping off his forehead* "Ma'am, you're sure you haven't been drinking?" "Yes officer." And then they call back with my license check "Negative for any activity." "Ya'll have a nice evening." Oh thank God. I'm sure I would've passed a breathalyzer, I certainly hadn't had much alcohol, and definitely did not feel any effects of any. But as soon as we were a block away, my neighbor started screaming. "OH MY GOD I AM NEVER DRIVING ON THIS ROAD AGAIN SAMANTHA YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" Again, I don't know the terms of his parole, but something along the lines of 90 days in jail was mentioned. Here's another tip: don't drink and drive. And really, for the sake of not getting heartburn, it's probably easiest to just not drink anything at all even when you're not driving for a while. What a way to cap off the night.

So that was this year's office Christmas party. We had a few people that thought they were Mario Lopez...we had a woman that was dressed like Michael Jackson going to court...and we had the head of our education department discover that the answer to "how low can you go?" was falling down on her ass. No air guitar, but still a lot of fun. I'll probably post the pics when I get them. Laters :)