I miss Christmas already. That being said, what I can do about it is look at all the pictures and stuff I took and blog about it, so it seems like I'm back there. Sound good? Too bad.
Here is the Revs' Christmas Tree for 2008:
and here it is lit up in the dark:
No punchlines, it's just pretty.
Another thing that's pretty, though much more annoying is snow. We have it in Central New York. Not like here, you NYC wusses. This much on Christmas, actually:
As a result, here's a photo of me pretending to have just done work:
Convincing, isn't it? That's how I'm still employed. My endless imagination lets me pretend to have just done a lot of filing, to have just scheduled things, and to have just finished writing that email.
You should see me fake an orgasm.
I'm just joking. I really wanted an excuse to play that clip.
However, I can definitely pretend to have just faked an orgasm.
We were talking about Christmas, right?
Capt. Scrooge had his annual holiday party, so I went to that. A lot of the same hijinx as last year went down, so that means it was a good time. Let's get some highlights up here.
In the presence of greatness.
You might recognize this man. Actually, I hope you recognize both of them. The one on the left is the one typing this, and the one on the right could destroy your house with a well-placed lightning bolt. Yes, he is, as my anagram generator labeled him a year ago, The Warm, Keen Tit.
Other familiar sights from last year include the tradition of Irish Car Bombs. Not very Christmasy, I suppose but who am I to argue with peer pressure? I want to be cool.
I'm pretty sure this photo captured the fear in my eyes.
That fear was augmented by another tradition, performed a bit earlier:
What kind of bar serves tequila in plastic cups?
But anyway, I reluctantly went along with the Car Bomb, aware of the limits of my stomach and the perils of carelessly mixing alcohols and such. And so, when the car bomb was gone, and I felt a huge amount of saliva being produced in my mouth, I wasn't entirely thrilled about it. It was then I remembered that my main meal of the day had been 20 hot Buffalo wings, which took place during a lunch/dinner with Honus and McG, two characters I can always count on to be up for some serious wing business. We destroyed those wings. It especially didn't hurt that McG and I had been stranded in the Valley of No-Wings-Worth-Mentioning, NYC for months prior. We were jonesing like crazy for some of that heavenly fried red-hotness.
I didn't bring my camera to the restaurant, but let's see what I can come up with...
Yeah, that pretty much captures the scene.
I'd say Honus is the one in back, because he had a big dinner to get to, and so only had a few wings.
So with my tract full-to-sloshing with fried chicken, butter, hot sauce, Saranac Pomegranate Wheat beer, tequila, Guinness, Jameson's and Bailey's, I made a bit of a bee line to the men's room. and proceeded to curse, threaten and beg my innards to deal with the mess I had handed them. I'm sure it wasn't the first battle that had happened in that restroom, but this one only involved one man.
In the end, I was able to unclench my jaw, take a deep breath and rejoin society with my equilibrium more or less intact.
All in all, I'd say the party was a success. Let's see what the host, Capt. Scrooge has to say:
"Go F ourselves, Everyone."
Ok, no more Christmas.
Catch you next time,