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The Ghost of Holiday Party Memories...

The last company I worked for designed software that tracked all stock/futures/mutual fund markets, performed on-line trading, and managed your portfolios. Two offices: one in Miami - headquarters - where the stock brokerage was, and the data/software design center here in Dallas. Or in other words: Latin hotties there, pasty-faced nerds here.

Seriously? You thought your tuxedo T-Shirt was formal wear??

I was in the nerdery. I started off in help desk and moved my way up to be the Data Architect and manager of the server farm. (Read: I was on the internet hop for the southern half of the US and downloaded bootlegged movies and waited for the Klaxon bell of DOOM to sound. Life was sweet. Mostly.) There were.... four females in the office? Three were in management, one was a secretary. One of the women was the office Elaine. And by that, I mean her moves. When I started, I worked for her. At the time of this story, I was above her on the corporate flow chart. 6 foot tall, blonde, imagined herself the funniest, most fabulous person ever. She'd cut you off and start talking about something completely random. Spoke at the top of her lungs all the time. One time she pulled her skirt up and showed me she wasn't wearing panties. Oh, dear god. The rest of the employees were software engineers. I'll let you paint a visual. You won't be wrong. Did you picture suspenders? Short-sleeved white shirts? Large framed glasses with the safety bar across the top? Eeeexcellent.

Every Christmas the executives from Miami would fly out and celebrate at our office. We'd rent a ballroom, have a sit down dinner, open bar, and dancing. Um... music - guys who have had the same game of D&D going for 22 years don't DANCE, you see. When more of the Miami office started coming out, THEN there was dancing. (Office full of male computer programmers. Yeah, they're really going to shake their bootay to ABBA. With each other. Great planning, boss.) So the President and VP were from Cuba, as was 65% of the company. All of the Directors and VPs were either Cuban or Dominican. Lots of fun, full of life, and no pocket protectors in sight.

Now, every Christmas party Tall Blonde (TB for short, okay?) would get SHIT-FACED. I mean, slurring, stumbling drunk. And would grooooove on the floor. Man, she lived to dance. See: Elaine. Legs flailing, arms akimbo, punctuated with "Whoo!!"'s and "Hooo!!!"'s Fingers snapping with abandon. Funky chickens. Tootsie-rolling. Remember how I said that there were four women (two who felt they were too old for dancing)? Lots of nerd-guys? Who wouldn't dance? Yep, she was the only one on the floor. And like clockwork, she would flail just a leeetle too hard and fall down on her keister. That was when I'd turn to the Head Geek, smile, wish him a Happy Holiday and go home. Every year. Good times. I like knowing that some things never change.

Well, when all the executives started coming to the party (the Miami Latins with their flavor and zest for life), it started getting fun as a participant, instead of standing on the sidelines watching TB make an ass of herself. Instead of the same old songs, the DJ would play salsa. Techno. FUN music. And they would all take turns dancing with me, because I can DANCE. Oooh, I love to salsa. Put me in the heels, gimme a great flippy skirt, and I'll shake it - tastefully - but I'll dance. TB was brought out on occassion, but the men ended up with wounds from her flailing, and bleeding ears from her battle cry of "WHOO!" so... not as much.

Bill, the President, was gorgeous, single, Cuban, very very sexy, but off limits, because HELLO: President. Also, I was not interested because Mr. S and I were dating. Mr. S does not dance, so I had no problems shaking my bon bon with the other fellas. (He didn't mind either, the freaky vouyer. Heh.) Now, salsa dancing can be sensual. But it's also fun, and doesn't HAVE to resemble the "Forbidden Dance." Tell that to TB. She was three sheets to the wind (free alcohol, you see) and started rubbing up and down against El Presidente. He was a man of grace, and offered to take her on the floor for a spin to a spirited number. You know, not a slow song. Smart. Well, she must have watched "The Lambada" recently. Threw her leg up, trying to make him hold it behind the knee, or something, and began thrusting her crotch clumsily at him (OOHHH!!! SNAPPING ALIGATOR!! I GET IT NOW!!).

She throws her hands up in the air, head back to give her primal yell of "WHOO!" and falls flat on her back, skin-tight red skirt hiked up to her na-nas, and guess what? Just like when she thought she'd "bond" with me back in the office, she wasn't wearing any panties. Well. I hear she didn't get a promotion that January.

I believe the Head Geek and I turned to each other, smiled, and wished each other a Merry Christmas immediately after. I clinked my martini glass against his Shiner Boch tucked into his tuxedo beer-cozy. Classy. Good times.

Also, this was on SNL this weekend, and it is AWESOME. Chronicles of Narnia rap. Heee!! Chris Parnell is fantastic. "Dropping Hamiltons like CRAZY." In other news, my mind is broken and I'm writing absolute insanity. As in, Sue emailed me back with: "you're writing WHAT???" M*A*S*H and Connor. I KNOW.


( 26 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:10 am (UTC)
Pssst. Do I seriously get a you?
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:22 am (UTC)
Pssst. COULD BE. It would just be an overnight job, but POSSIBLY. Say... the 29th? Over night??
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:25 am (UTC)

I'd say "hell yes" but my font won't go big enough here. Yes, TOTALLY, yes!!
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:29 am (UTC)
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:15 am (UTC)
Ah, life in the private sector.

Julia, hee! for the suspendors (not for SU, for he is a skinny geek)
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:23 am (UTC)
Oh, man. Good times. I looked forward to it every year. I like knowing that some things never change...

Dec. 20th, 2005 08:16 am (UTC)
God, you just made a day at home with the stomach flu a giggle fest.

*believes in miracles again*
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:24 am (UTC)
BWAH!! It's a Festivus meeeeracle!

(Oh! Poor you with the sick and owie!!)
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:31 am (UTC)
::sniffle:: It's all...kinda beautiful...in a way...sorta...

Dec. 20th, 2005 08:35 am (UTC)
beautiful in the, pull up a chair, have I got a story for you, kind of way, YES.

I don't miss working my ass off in a high-maintenance job, but I DO miss the office hijinks.

Man, I haven't even gotten started on the guy who was on Jerry Springer and the one arm!!!
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:37 am (UTC)
It's the Chronic- WHAT? Kuhls of Narnia!!

If people be talking in here, it's gonna get tragic!
I settle my ass in for two hours of magic!

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh, Sue, I squish you to bits. one week!!! I'll make it happen, seriously. *needs a BREAK*
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:45 am (UTC)
Funny story. I work for a software company, too. Except our geeks are Canadian, so they all wear plaid shirts and talk about hockey all day.

M*A*S*H and Connor? I can't WAIT to see how that's gonna shake down.
Dec. 20th, 2005 08:48 am (UTC)

These are the quintessential Computer Geeks. Like, the kinds that tell jokes in code. Par-TAY!
Dec. 20th, 2005 09:12 am (UTC)
Know the feeling, dear heart. Like you wouldn't believe.
Dec. 20th, 2005 09:20 am (UTC)

Satan's company parties are the BEST!!
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Dec. 20th, 2005 09:21 am (UTC)
DUDE. She was so drunk she didn't REMEMBER. Like we're going to tell her about it! Sheyuh.

The Narnia rap is fantastic. (Work/kid safe, so no worries on that.)

I have ONLY BEGUN to tell you of my office parties! Muah ah ah!
Dec. 20th, 2005 09:31 am (UTC)
check out www.thelonelyisland.com

It's the comedy group Andy Samburg and two of the staff writers from SNL got poached from. Watch the MTV pilot, funny, funny stuff.
Dec. 20th, 2005 09:33 am (UTC)
Oh, fantastic! They're finally getting guys that can keep up with the girls. (Although, I've always liked Parnell.)
Dec. 20th, 2005 09:55 am (UTC)
Heee! I am weird, for I feel sort of bad for the TB. I often cringe and feel badly for people who Just Do Not Get it. That's me -- I absorb other people's shame when they don't feel it themselves! It is FUN, believe you me.

Now I am so looking for a tuxedo t-shirt for you. OMG NO PANTIES!!!
Dec. 20th, 2005 10:00 am (UTC)
Okay, NORMALLY, I cringe for people, as well. I don't like people making fools of themselves. BUT. She was MEAN. Hateful, boorish, vindictive.

So. Don't feel bad for her.

Tuxedo T!! Dude. Like, three of them would wear those WITHOUT FAIL. And a sportscoat. Like, the last one their moms bought them before they got chucked out of the house because they were making 90s IT money. Ha!

(And I don't know WHAT it is about me, but let's just say I attract people who FEEL COMPELLED to tell me about their lack of underwear. AND THEN PROVE IT.)
Dec. 20th, 2005 12:12 pm (UTC)
WOW! Best party story ever! Not only did she manage the drunken boorish behaviour, but also slam punch, backed it up with rubbing oneself against the boss, falling about the dance floor and then flinging ones skirt up for all to see, and by all I mean ALL. It's like several traditional party behaviours all rolled into one glorious traffic accident.

Good times.
Dec. 20th, 2005 12:37 pm (UTC)
Oh my GOD, I haven't even STARTED with TB. She was the WHOLE reason most of us WENT to the party.

*laughs my ass off* If she wasn't a racist, mean bitch, I would have felt bad for her.

The BEST of times. (emailed you back, BTW. Heeee!)
( 26 comments — Leave a comment )


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

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