Broadway.com went ALL out last night for the annual holiday party. $1 drinks, fajita buffet, dancing, it was off the hook ya'll. And to think, I almost didn't go, what a shame that would have been. It's a damn good thing and came to my senses and realized I would be passing up cheap booze, free food, and a perfect blog entry. It wasn't long after I arrived when I set out 2 goals for the night.
1. To get wasted and make a fool of myself.
2. To dance with my supervisor, Kelly.
Mission accomplished.
It's a funny thing when a bunch of co-workers who don't really know each other that well get together and party. All boundaries go out the window; there are no titles, no offices, and no corporate ladders to climb. It is a free-for-all and the perfect opportunity to let the booze drown out all inhibitions that prevent you from acting like a moron and doing something you'd look back on the next day while hanging your head in shame.
Granted, I did not achieve the embarrassment I had hoped for; in my mind I imagined myself grabbing the microphone out of our President's hands and in a drunken rage start praising everyone, telling them how beautiful they all were, how much they meant to me and how important they were, all the while getting more and more angry and belligerent until eventually I collapsed in a ball of tears, waiting for someone to remove me.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
I did, however, partake in the clusterfuck that was "The 12 days of Christmas: Broadway.com style". This was the second year in which someone wrote a parody of the 12 days of Christmas, but changed the lyrics around to make fun of Broadway.com and it's customers. Bret, my friend who wrote it, roped me in the last minute--I'm so glad I did too, because I am pretty sure it was more painful to be in the audience watching than it was to be on stage.
15 drunk people singing a Christmas song with altered lyrics + 1 microphone + 100 drunk people not listening = disaster.
I had a blast though! And fulfilled 1/2 of one of my goals--as it was in a group, I could not fully count the 12 days of Christmas as making a fool of myself. No worries though, I grabbed another drink and hit the dance floor to conquer my second goal.
I am not a good dancer---but after enough drinks, the jolly holiday vibe buzzing around the room, and the mission at hand, I was ready to get down.
Kelly is known to get wasted at company functions, and this night was no exception. I arrived to the shindig a little bit late, to find Kelly on the dance floor in full force. As the night progressed and the liquor flowed, I threw caution to the wind, and bounced, flailed, bumped, and jumped along side the woman who interviewed me and gave me a job 2 years ago. It was all that I could have hoped for!
1--the number of times she ran and jumped in my arms as I twirled her around.
Numerous--the number of times she grabbed my ass.
0--the number of times she made eye contact with me at work the next day.
See, going to work the next day is all part of the gloriousness of the Office Holiday Party. Everyone forgets that they have to see each other the next and they show up embarrassed and ashamed. Not me though, I wore my hangover proudly. When I saw Kelly around the office, I would say, "heeey Kelly" in a way that said, "yeah, we both remember what went down. We had a good time. You split your pants and then showed us" But all I got in response was a quiet, "hi" which said, "I'm not quite sure how to act in the office today."
Broadway.com would be so much more fun to work at if we had these kinds of parties on a regular basis.
All in all the night was a delight capped off by me and Joe Tropia stumbling to the after-party and getting side-tracked by the Scientology building on 46th. We walked with a woman named Jennifer for about 10 minutes talking to her about Scientology. That's a whole other blog though. Maybe I'll get up the motivation to write it. Probably not though.
