Good Morning Observers of Tradition,
Last night I attended the 20th Christmas party thrown by my employer. Each year it seems the level of depravity takes on new and creative profligations leaving each annual event with its own unique history. It seems like just last year when Jimbo was caught humping the executive secretary in the coat-check room. Who will ever forget Chauncey pissing in the potted fake plant when he thought no one was looking? A turd in the punch bowl, legs wrapped around a partner’s head, belligerent arguments with the boss, and drunken slobbering tongue exchanges with subsequent exits two by two. These are truly the only things I possess that can’t be taken from me. Last night was indeed another worthy episode for the history books. Unfortunately I was victimized in this chapter.
As some of you know I’ve been fishing for women from a dating web site. This is such an efficient way of meeting women, but lacks the charm of being clever enough to use overtures either accepted or rejected on the spot. Now, one must commit at least an hour to the ‘meeting’ unless of course they look nothing like the pic used to lure you in, then I feel justified in being rude. Having said this though, I met Barb the afternoon of the party and felt it went well so invited her to be my date. I was pleased she accepted and agreed to meet me there to partake in the ‘Yuletide spirit.’ It seemed pretty desperate on my part, but she thought it would be a ‘hoot’ to help me crank up the company rumor mill and play it up! God bless her!
Barb’s drink of choice are ‘Long Island Ice Teas’ and given the open bar status, began to pound them pretty hard. Within an hour of arriving she was trashed. All the dignitaries had arrived and were anxious to talk with the woman now claiming to be my fiancé. We had agreed to let me do the talking and she’d play out the scenario I’d describe. Evidently this all went out the window as Barb quickly turned into a raging sloppy drunk incapable of sticking to our plan. The live band was playing a slow grinder. Mid-sentence my boss was taken by the arm and dragged to the dance floor by this loud obnoxious person claiming she’d be married to me by Christmas day! Her hips grinding into his and generally all over the boss, he looked over at me like I’d better do something about it right now!
Humiliation doesn’t accurately describe what I was feeling about then and walked over to ‘cut-in’ hoping to mitigate the spectacle. She was weaving so badly and the color left her face leaving no doubt she was about to puke. I grabbed her from behind so she couldn’t cling to the boss’s coat and pulled her away just in time. Her projectile vomit missing him by only an inch or two saved his suit coat but certainly soiled the floor. I walked her to the bathroom allowing her to finish the job and stood guard. 30 minutes went by and not a word so I peaked in to discover she’d passed out with her chin still planted on the inside of the bowl while on her knees. She was out cold! Where has she been all my life?!!
I was able to find her address by rummaging around in her purse securing her driver’s license. With the kind help of a couple of sisters we got her cleaned up and called a cab. She was hardly conscious but the boss chipped in a C-note for the cabbie if he’d get her in the house. In fact nearly $300 was raised to further incentivize the cabby so he accepted the challenge. That was the last I saw her. I’ve tried to call but to date no return call. I hope she made it.
I’m prepared for the grilling I’m going to get on Monday and no doubt I deserve it, but I’d like the two or three of you reading this compress to remember, ‘love will find a way’ even if one must wade through vomit, because I think I love her.