Bring on the Booze! The Staff Party Looms

I'm six hours away from the annual staff party at work, round eight for me. In years past we've rented a boat for drunkeness and tapas, had a great catered home party, had lobsters and oysters at the legendary Rodney's Oyster House, visited classic Vancouver restaurants like Raincity Grill, Umberto's Al Porto, and great places like Tangerine. Tonight's not an exception and is one of my favourite restaurants in the city -- one I have often chosen for dates because of its great atmosphere for conversation, awesome food, and patient, good service. I've probably never dined there in less than 2 hours because it's the kind of place in which you love to linger. (I'll share the name and a proper reviewafter the fact. Especially since it's such a great date place.)

Mm. Food! Alcohol! I haven't had a drink in two weeks -- unheard of in my world, but because it's empty calories, it's all part of the greater plan to minimize my maximized tushy. But tonight I'm going to go hard and long and over and over and over again as I get the drunkest I've been since last year's bash. Every year: Drunk.

What happens at the staff party stays at the staff party, unless it's too funny not to bring up in the future, of course. The first party I ever went to had my boss peer pressuring me to drink more. "I'm paying for your cab! Have a brandy! Have you ever had brandy? No? God! Waiter! Two snifters of Courvoisier -- and make them doubles! Make it three! Three, doubles." We split the third. I remember nothing after that, except the challenge of enduring the cab ride home.

And I've kept the track record of drinking until I vomit every single Christmas. What? They made me do it.

I think my bosses just love knowing that they invoke all the mayhem. One of those being-selfish-by-giving things that should be practiced by more people the world over. Give 'cos you feel great doing it. So, there will be bottomless drinking, endless food, and free cabrides home. No one works tomorrow, and we only have five days until we're off until the 2nd. Go hard, go long.

I will not be able to keep any of it down. No way, no how. So, it's kind of like the porcelain god will absolve me of all my boozing and eating sins as soon as I stagger into my hovel at night's end. Ah, well, it's once a year. Should be a blast. I work with great people but our jobs are highly antisocial. I sit there with headphones on in front of both a tv and a computer monitor, watching television and typing... we all do. We take no breaks aside from 30 minutes to grab food or take breathers... kinda like a really happy, low-stress, easy-living intellectual word-lover's sweatshop without the sweat and lack of elbow space. But we're all cool people who never get to chat aside from two or three minutes here or there. And tonight we party.

Today I finally gave in and spent some of my Christmas bonus before it's given to me. Bought five new shirts*, three necklaces, much needed socks, and the cutest little sneakers ever. I'll get to feel cute tonight. Still need more stuff, but it's a start. And I think I've just kicked off a new sneaker addiction. Ooh. Ooh. Dangerous.

I shall visit here tomorrow in all my hangover blahness and share with y'all. Should be a very, very good evening and I know I'll hurt tomorrow, but it's always been worth the idiocy before. :) Happy weekend, boys and girls.

*One of the shirts I bought is two sizes too small: my target shirt for working out. Really cute shirt marked down to a ridiculous $6. My last target item is almost a reality -- I'm an inch away from being able to button up my '70s-style chocolate brown suede coat that I set as my target item back in mid November. Very cool, very cute... probably the first two weeks of January for that, end of February for this new shirt, maybe.