Posted by: theboyfromsmallville | December 21, 2007

Putting the art back in parteys

So it’s officially the Christmas season because I’ve attended three parties in as many days. A fourth is on tab and I’ve got invitations for three more in between Christmas Day and New Year ’s Eve.

The Denver Post is right. Christmas parties, particularly those of the office variety, have become a lot tamer nowadays. It’s still wild out there in posh clubs, where one can get killed just because of an inadvertent sideways glance mistaken for a challenge to one’s manhood, as Gerry reports.

But in the office? The CEO who used to provide year-long coffee-break talk for mimicking a wet t-shirt contestant while gyrating on the buffet table? He’s probably content nowadays just wagering friendly basketball bets with the office messenger.

And the dork who shoved a plastic cup with a generous dose of tequila in it right in front of Sen. Richard Gordon’s face, watched him one-gulp the damn thing and then gave the poor guy—INADVERTENTLY, may I remind people—a slice of previously-used lemon to suck on? 

boy from smallville, cropped guy on the left

He was at the receiving end of shotglass-passers this time, probably jolted by the memory that he force-fed the paper’s editor-in-chief also with a shot of tequila, only with a new slice of lemon, and for a while there were rumors that he would lose his job.

But tamer doesn’t mean less fun. Tamer only means that there was no puking one’s guts all over the floor; just puking clandestinely while seated on the office couch and leaning over to the direction of a trash bin.

And for those who still plan on attending more parties before the year ends, I have a handful of suggestions on how to put the art back in parties.

First, bring a garden variety plastic corkscrew (important, really). The one whose spiraling metal screw can be sheathed in a tube of plastic tube (more important).  Keep it in your pocket for emergency purposes.

Second. Leave your car keys. Like I said, tamer. I didn’t say 100% alcohol-free. I know these days, finding a cab is tougher than looking for a critically-acclaimed song in a Hale album but consider the possible alternative: You in the driver’s seat with your chest pinched to wafer-thin proportions between the steering wheel and the backrest.

Better yet, host the party and make everybody who brought car keys toss them into a fishbowl. Hide the fishbowl in a corner of your basement, right beside the stack of porn mags you keep from your bible-quoting grandmother.

A note to dumbasses: Leaving your keys behind? The principle behind it is that it keeps you from driving. So leaving your keys behind and car-pooling after the party with someone who swallowed enough alcohol to sanitize his intestines? Duh.

And while you’re hosting the party, might as well go for tip No. 3: Hire a reindeer for a host. I kid you not.

The last party I attended did the same thing. I do not know how, I’m not into logistics. But somehow, they managed to snare a live reindeer and teach it to speak and dance in time for their Christmas party. And that party turned out to be a blast.

When I entered the party room, I was kind of surprised to see, right in the middle of oil-rich, cholesterol-laced food, a plateful of steamed veggies. It was like attending Satan’s bachelor party and finding a nun present.

I was told it was for the reindeer-host. Now I don’t know what type of grass they fed this reindeer, but he/she/it was worth a thousand laughs that night.

spot the reindeer

Fourth: Mingle. I really don’t get people who, during once-a-year parties, share a drink all night with the person they share a desk with the whole year round. I mean, dude, c’mon. This is probably the only time in the year where you have a shot at squeezing some blackmail-able detail from an inebriated boss, something you can file for future use, like, say, when you need him to sign a leave form so you can join your friends in a summer beach getaway. Take advantage.

Fifth: Whatever you’re drinking, flush down four bottles/glasses/shots in front of a large number of people right away. Trust me, you can drink just one bottle/glass/shot the rest of the night but you would’ve already built a reputation as someone who can hold his drink even after drinking big.

Sixth: If there’s exchanging gifts penciled into the party schedule, don’t overdo things. I once brought a PSP to a party for exchange-gifts and I found out later that the next best present that night was a Baguio City keychain. There’s impressive, and there’s looking like a pompous blowhard.

Seventh: Drink anyway. I mean, heck, it is a party, right? And there is alcohol, right? No one’s having a massive toothache so there’s no use saving up the alcohol for dental first-aid. Drink like a fish. Loosen up. It’ll be probably be the only time in your minimum-wage-a-day career that you will be sharing exactly the same drink with your Ferrari-driving boss over dinner, so who cares if you overdo it? Just leave your car keys at home.

Eighth: If there’s going to be a game, enough of the “Bring Me” already. Haven’t you guys had enough of trying to convince someone to untie his blue Mickey Mouse shoelaces just for a shot at winning a company paperweight? It’s not like you work in an open-air environment after all; what would you need a paperweight for?

For a game, here’s a suggestion: Try the CSI game. That’s what the last party I attended did. Y’know, that game where there are chalked figures of impossibly-twisted bodies, the one you see in police crime scenes, and where people try to fit themselves into the drawing?

drop. dead.

That one’s cool.

I was trying to make sense as to why anyone would ever think of a game that aims to make people look like corpses when it hit me: 10 or 20 years down the road, when people look back to tell this story to new officemates, the conversation would go like this:

You: Dude, parties? Nothing beats Christmas of 07.
New officemate: Really?
You: Dude, that one was gorgeous.
New officemate: As in, how gorgeous?
You: As in, drop dead gorgeous.

And you put the emphasis on both drop and dead, leaving gorgeous to pass in a whisper.

By the time you’re done drinking like tomorrow’s just an office rumor and playing games, the alcohol will start kicking in and make you feel really queasy. It’s either you pass out or you join your friends for a post-party party in some 24-hour watering hole.

Usually, a generous splash of water on your face does the trick, but if you still feel faint, whip out the corkscrew from your pocket and jab it hard down your throat until even last week’s breakfast is already puddle at your feet.

Then you can start putting the art back in parties.

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Responses

  1. nagsisisi akong di ako umattend ng EPA party *sniff*

  2. just to see kenneth sprawled like that no, that party was SO worth it. haha.

  3. Cy: You missed one good party! *rubs it in* hehehehe

    Kate: Kaya nga drop. dead. gorgeous. eh :D

  4. puking clandestinely in a corner is the new cool!

  5. […] Besides, I have a personal stake here, more than the fact that he formed a political partnership with a Cebuano. If he becomes president, I would become the first person to force a shot of tequila on a future lead… […]


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