Welcome to “Same Old Sh*t” Saturday, where I trick you into thinking I wrote something new and fresh, when what I'm actually doing is buying new tires at Costco. This post seemed appropos with all the holiday parties I've been navagating my way through over the past few weeks...
I hate parties.
I mean, I really hate these stupid little get-togethers. I don't know half these people and don't like half of the half I do know.
What is that dude's name. John? Jeff? Jake? Josh? yeah, yeah. What's up, JohnJeffJakeJosh? Yeah, you're looking really good, too, Chrome-Dome. Good thing you shaved your head so now nobody can see your bald spot. Ingenious!
A beer? Great! What's I'd really like is a nice frosty cold Shiner Bock or maybe even a big thick Guinness, but I'll settle for that crappy Bud Light you're handing to me. Thanks, bro. Please go bother somebody else now. Fantastic!
Let's check out this chow table... oh my sweet Lord. Crab cakes? Hot spinach and artichoke dip... oh sh*t, I think I just drooled on myself. Oh, that Bud Light definitely does not hit the spot. What else have we got here? Great... seventeen kinds of cheese, and seventeen additional reasons this party's got FAIL written all over it. Hmmmmm, maybe if I did a quintuple workout tomorrow...
Okay, grab a little plate and let's find something that won't wreck your next weigh-in. BINGO! Baby carrots. Load up on them things, Bunnicula. Ranch dressing, hmmm? Low-fat? I seriously doubt that. Grab some celery, too, and roll some of them baby tamatoes on the plate so there's no room for those delish-smelling egg rolls over them. Ayyyyyyy, snatch the egg roll from my hand, grasshopper. Geez, hold it together, son. Waitaminute... grab some of them pepperoncinis. Oh hell yeah. Love biting something that bites back.
Oh, hey, what's-your-face? How's your daughter liking whatever college she wound up going to? Great! Sure, tell me all about your fantasy football team. I'll just be nibbling this carrot stick into a sharp point and having my own fantasy: about jabbing it repeatedly in your neck.
Hey, weird guy with the mole! How's it hanging? Have you heard about what's-his-face's sweet-ass fantasy football team? You gotta get you some of this. Excuse me, I've got to go stand over there.
Oh, hell no... the life insurance guy that I told I'd call right after the last one of these parties. Why do I always tell 'em I'll call 'em? Oh, hi, Carl or Ken. Pete? Yeah, I knew that. Life insurance, right? Right! Yeah, I was gonna call you but I lost your business card. Oh, you have another one? Sweet. I'll give you a call next week. Now excuse me... I'm going to get a little something to nibble on.
Hey, that broccoli salad looks pretty fresh. Mmmmmmm... that's semi-tolerable. And a couple of pieces of cheese won't sink the Titanic, I guess. Waitaminute... are they talking about me? Act all nonchalant and jack up your Six-Million-Dollar-Man bionic hearing to max. Do do do do do do do do do do do. Hmmmm, talking about how good you look. Nice. Very nice.
Oh, hey there, Nancy. Of course, I meant Linda. Yes, I'm terrible with names and yes, I have lost a lot of weight. Oh, just eating better, exercising more. Oh, hey there, Tom & Ginger. Yes, I've lost a few pounds here lately. Oh, I don't know how many. I'm not really a "scale" guy. Well, I've probably lost a little more than that. Just eating less, exercising more. No, it's probably a few pounds more than that.
Another beer? No thanks... I'm doing fine. I'm doing just fine.
I love parties.