CHRISTMAS TIME IS A SWELL TIME.   

Tuesday was the annual T-P third floor office Christmas party. Usually I'm working for this and eventually become upset at all the noise preventing me from concentrating on my work. But this year I was off. I showed up anyway. You know, for the fun and free boiled shrimp. 

I even dressed appropriately. Don't want any of those big shots thinking less of the people putting together the newspaper. On Monday, Doug mentioned that Tuesday was the Christmas party (I actually had no idea until he said it) so we should clean up our work area. I listened.

This is my desk. It used to be cluttered with all kinds of junk. I threw all that shit away, and now you can actually see the desk. I have three neat stacks of paper. Special thanks to Jelly for having that Clorox with bleach conveniently located on her desk. There was a lot of dust. 

The only eyesore now is that piece of corn under the desk. Not sure what to do with that. It's Richard's Nebraska Cornhusker. You wear it on your head. 

Nothing says company Christmas party like a row of liquor. I showed up at 3:45, about 15 minutes before the guest began arriving. I see Danny with a drink in his hand. Danny: "Yeah. I started this party at 3:30." I decided to join him. 

Me: I'll have a jack and coke please.

Bartender: You have your ID?

Me: Actually, I ...

Bartender: I'm just kidding. 

You know what else he wasn't kidding about? The jack in the jack and coke. That sucker was strong. Surprisingly strong for an office party. I'd say it was at least 50 percent jack. The second jack and coke I got from another station was not so strong. Not sure why I didn't return to the first station. 

I cut myself off at two drinks. Don't want to be making a fool of myself and whatnot in front of the distinguished guests. But if it was just a T-P workers party, who knows what would have happened. Maybe even the first ever worm in the newsroom. 

As for the boiled shrimp, this comment from Phil should tell you all you need to know about how many I threw down. Phil (upon returning from the food area to his desk): "Gene, I see you've gotten to the shrimp. They are all out." Hey, now. I had some help from Max. 

 

There hasn't been this many people in the office since, well, the last Christmas party. The festivities lasted a little more than two hours, much to the chagrin of the people who were actually there to make the newspaper. Party poopers. 

Bake and I were surveying the scene at the height of the madness. 

Bake: Not a lot of eye candy.

Me: Yeah. Who did they invite to this thing?

Bake: Just ugly people. 

There were several celebrities in the house. I hear Brad even stopped by for a few minutes. This guy pictured is local actor Salvatore Romano, who stars in AMC's Mad Men. Jelly pointed him out to me, and I took his picture for Tina. She's a big fan of the show. I call her.

Me: Mom, do you know Salvatore Romano of Mad Men?

Mom: Yeah. He's there?

Me: Oh yeah. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

Mom: He plays a gay character on the show. 

Me: Oh really? 

Mom: Yeah. Go ask him if he's gay in real life.

Other celebrities included Cynthia Willard Lewis of the New Orleans City Council and Hornets owner George Shinn. And. ...

Recently elected congressman Joseph Cao. His wife, here in the process of dipping her shrimp in cocktail sauce, was breathtaking in person. Usually I just let Minkus drool over Asians, but she was smokin'. Bake and I gave her the T-P Eye Candy of the Christmas party award.   

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I tell my mom that George Shinn was at the Christmas party instead of watching that night's game of the team he owns. "What's he going to do? Watch the game on that little fucking TV in sports? The sports department should have a big fucking TV." (Amen. Oh, and a DVR, too.)

I tried to bet Lopes that mom would say Merry-fucking-Christmas again at some point during this holiday season. I came close to winning Wednesday. "You went to a fucking Christmas party." 

I'm watching NBA TV with Gary Payton and Chris Webber (comedy gold, I tell you). "Those basketball players love those big fucking diamonds, huh?"

Mom doesn't like the shirt I had on Wednesday because the letters (HATTRICK) on the back are coming off. I tell her that it's just an under shirt. "It still has letters falling off the fucking thing."

Mom hasn't received her first T-Mobile bill yet. "I'm hoping they fucked up, and I never get one."

I'm about to walk out the door to go to the Hornets-Spurs game. 

Mom: You got your tickets?

Me: Nope.

Mom: Jesus. 

I WASN'T DONE DRINKING AFTER THE PARTY.

I returned home after the Christmas party Tuesday night to watch the Hornets-Grizzlies game. Chuck called during the game at 8:30 to invite me to the Magazine Bulldog. Bob, him (neither of whom I had seen since my birthday) and some others were hanging out. I said I'd be there. 

But then I got caught up in the Hornets game and didn't arrive until 9:40. I figured they wouldn't be there for much longer. I guessed we'd all be leaving at about 10:40. I was a little off. I left the Bulldog at 1:05 a.m. Though Chuck and Bob left long before that. 

Now, I just have to hope this Bulldog doesn't burn like the Canal one did right after I hung out there for several hours a few weeks back. 

(Quick side note for all you T-P readers. Guess what former employee now works at the Magazine Bulldog bussing tables? Hints: He liked Chinese food, worked in the radio business and rode his bike to work sometimes. OK. One more hint. He was the self-proclaimed best athlete in the department. That's right. King Simien (spelling?) King Simien.) 

I had several beers at the Bulldog. Bob's friend Alexis bought me the first drink, but she told me I had to sing for the group first. (You see that, T-P folks. Some people appreciate my talents.) 

I had met Alexis once before, and during our conversation, I told her I wrote parodies sometimes on my blog. She got really excited (she's in a band with Chuck and Bob - though I think Bob quit) and made me sing one. I belted out the one about Chris Paul to the Mary Tyler Moore theme. 

She liked it so much, she insisted I perform it again Tuesday night. Who was I to turn down a fan? I believe there was even a chant of my name from the group when I finished. I'm starting to think I should perform for CP3 himself. Marcus, hook that up. 

Alexis (left) and her friend Laura (right. I know, Derry. The "right" wasn't necessary.) were comparing their shoes. They asked me what their shoes said about them. They thought my response was hysterical.

Me: Those (pointing at Laura's) say, 'I'm ready for a serious relationship.' And those (pointing at Alexis') say, 'I'm already in a comfortable relationship.'

When I was showing Tina the picture of Salvatore on my computer, she noticed the shoe picture next to it. "Who the fuck's feet is that? ... Those are some fucking shoes." 

PARTING SHOTS

At the Christmas party, Bake and I notice Jeff talking to a girl. Note: There is a running joke in the office that Jeff is a bitter old man.

Me: There's some eye candy, Bake. She's pretty.

Bake: Yeah. She could make him less bitter. 

At the Bulldog, Alexis reveals the middle name of Peter, who was another member (and a funny one at that) of our group. I'm pretty sure it is Richard.

Alexis: I love that your name is Peter Dick.

Peter: Yeah. I really loved it when the kids in the fourth grade figured that out. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top 10 TV duos. In two parts, of course. 

10) Oscar and Felix. Odd Couple.

I bet this situation would have a different meaning if the show was made today. 

9) Doug and Deacon. King of Queens. 

One of several white-black best buddy combos on this here list.

8) Stewie and Brian. Family Guy.

Boy, they've taken some fun road trips. 

7) Jack and President Palmer. 24.

They saved the world within a day's time on three occasions.  

6) Buddy and Sally. The Dick Van Dyke Show. 

You couldn't say party without Buddy and Sally.