12.3.07

Finally in the Spirit...

In the spirit of the season, a few of my closest friends got together and put this together--a little volume helps...

Party Recap

As I reposted last week, last year I did a blow-by-blow recap of the first 12 hours of our annual Christmas Party weekend...

My intention was to do the same this year--however, about 90% of our potential material for the blog pretty much disappeared when McCaw elected not to partake in the day-drinking that the rest of us were suffering through, and instead met us for sushi around 8:00 that night.


I went through my notes and found only a few things worth mentioning about Day One...they were:

-The introduction of a new made-funny-out-of-overuse-joke for the group...which is repeating Bryant Gumble's ridiculous question to Adam "Pacman" Jones a couple of months ago: "Didya make it rain?"
Laughs aplenty.

-We went back to the Royal Exchange (not to be confused with the Power Exchange which is also in San Francisco) where McCaw did the majority of his damage last year. Erik brings up the fact that I likened the place to Appleby's in last year's blog and requested that I make a formal apology. So here it is:
I'm sorry that I referred to the Royal Exchange as "Appleby's for Cal Grads". That was inappropriate and short-sighted. In reality it is a wonderful bar, full of culture and sophistication. It is more like "TGI Fridays for Cal Grads."

-Mo ordered an MGD with options for twenty or so other beers. That's like walking into Armani and saying, "What do you have in a Members Only jacket?"

-Mo also referred to the "it's the pyramids" commercials that are on TV right now. Really Mo? "It's the pyramids"?? You sure you're not talking about the "It's the mirrors" commercials? To be fair--he's not that far off--I mean, they ARE both nouns.

-Josh donning arguably the most ridiculous looking sunglasses the world has ever seen. They looked like what Jackie Onassis would have worn if she was blind and had terrible taste.

But I digest...

Despite massive amounts of alcohol (at one point after we'd been drinking Sapporo and Saki for a few hours, Pete ordered FORTY 22 oz beers for our group) the day was relatively low-key.

The Christmas Party however went to new heights...

I didn't take any notes, but I'll try to do a recap as best I can for the one of you that is reading that wasn't actually at the party and the four that were...

(Oh—please forgive me if the times are a complete mess—at this point I’m kind of seeing the image of the night through a screen-door of malted hops.)

(Second note--you'll notice that the detail starts to fade as the night progresses...that isn't out of laziness, it is just that I can't write about what I don't remember...)



So here we go...

I’d woken up before the other eight that are crashing at Erik and his better-half’s beautiful one bedroom, ONE BATHROOM condo. So, knowing I may not see the shower all day if I didn’t go for it immediately, I jumped in and then realized nobody was going to be up for a couple of hours…so I text my buddy Todd and we meet for breakfast. Breakfast turns to breakfast beers and breakfast beers lead to post-breakfast beers and suddenly when it comes time for me to meet up with the Logger Crew, it is about 11:30 and I’m already four beers deep. Oh well…

11:38: We’re sitting at the Grove, outside. They’re eating breakfast, I’m having pie and a Pelligrino because I’ve already eaten, but am trying to make a workout on Monday a virtual impossibility. By the misfortune of every female yoga student in Pacific Heights, we’re sitting right in the walking line of their recently dismissed class. I’ve got to tell you—I don’t know that many guys in Southern California—and because of that, I miss out on random moments where 6-8 testosterone-charged, hungover slobs get to sit and try to one-up each other in making lewd comments about every girl that walks by. It’s a special time that only straight men can appreciate---but it is just phenomenal.

12:44: We’ve walked back to Erik’s, picked up the Tahoe and are headed to the “Dateway.” (The Dateway is the Marina Safeway in San Francisco—it was rated by some Playboy list as the best place to pick up women in America. Every trip seems to guarantee a few stalkerish stares and some of San Francisco’s most-beautiful women…we make an annual pilgrimage there every Saturday of the Christmas Party…SHOCKING.)

12:52: I'm assigned to "MIXERS" for the party. Have I mentioned how much I love this weekend? It is really "OUR" Christmas Party. I mean--Erik and his wife who will continue to remain nameless--are the hosts, and the people who put the thing on, open up their home to us, do all of the work and provide all of the hospitality--but we all take ownership in it because we enjoy it so much---and I think that's how Erik/wife want it to be. Just a great great tradition...

12:56: Another reason I love this weekend is that my cart is FULL of mixers. I mean--FULL. I don't think I could get a Kit Kat into this cart it is so packed. I mention to Erik that this is probably the closest that you can ever genuinely get to flushing money down the toilet---in this case however, you do so via your party guests' urinary tracts.

1:39: After forty minutes of packing three carts full of "supplies" and staring at every girl who crossed our paths, we pack six into the five-person Tahoe and head back to the condo. Unfortunately for every girl walking Union Street, we chose that route home. Just another continuation of the Grove earlier--but this one I think could hit the point of one of us genuinely being arrested. One girl in particular passed by us, so Erik hits the breaks...then creaped past her...parked...let her pass again...drove further...parked...this went on for two or three minutes. THEN, when we realized we could get a good picture of her from the car, our friend Eastcoast jumps out of the car and starts genuinely stalking her. (I can't tell you how disturbing this was---Eastcoast was dressed in black head-to-toe, with creepy actor hair, and a hungover disposition that made him look about as approachable as a Venus Flytrap.) So Eastcoast goes walking after her as we start doing figure eights around the blocks, watching this ridiculous display. He comes back to the car after five minutes or so, and we already know he didn't get a clear picture by the look on his face, but our creepy, Hell-spun brains were quickly assuaged when my disturbed friend lets out, "Dude--I didn't get a picture, but I know where she lives!" Wow. Book us all a spot in Hell in the "Pervert" section.


2:09: Mo, Erik and I return from buying the keg. We had spoken on the way down to the car after dumping the Safeway supplies about how stupid people were in college, carrying kegs upright instead of end-to-end. Let me tell you something--there is NO good way to carry a keg up five and a half flights of switchback stairs. It's just not easy at all. I'm going to guess it took Mo and I fifteen minutes to navigate it up there, and we both felt like we needed a nap when we finally did.

2:52: The UW-Oklahoma State basketball game had begun at 2:30. My brother and I get VERY cranky if we miss a single minute of UW games. And at 2:52, we'd already turned the TV back to the LSU-Tennessee game. I hope I'm not, but I have a fear that I was completely wrong in my assessment of this team---the 8th that they were picked in the Pac-10 might be accurate.

3:40: Pete and Billy have meandered in and Erik's wife/her friend Utah are decorating---so my brother decides that it is a pretty appropriate time to whip up some Summerbrew. What is Summerbrew? It's a more-masculine name for a Pink Pantie Dropper, and has become our pre-function brain-distorter of choice. Ever want to get the night started quickly? Whip up a mixture that includes a can of concentrated lemonade, the same can full of ice, that same can full of VODKA and a beer...you'll be blacked-out before most of the guests arrive.

4:33: Mo and my brother are standing in front of the sink as a few of us are drinking beers and Summerbrew before the party starts at five. Eastcoast comes into the kitchen, reaches around Mo to take a cup off of the stack that was behind him, fills it with beer and begins to drink. A couple minutes later, after my brother had been laughing hysterically since Eastcoast walked through the kitchen with his full beer, he finally shows us that Eastcoast had taken a cup from the USED stack of cups. Disgusting. (Naturally, we didn't inform him of this until Sunday.)

4:40: The bartender shows up. Wait a minute...THE BARTENDER??? Erik never ceases to amaze us with his hospitality and ability to run the classiest drunkfest you can imagine. This will save us from the inevitable scene at 11:30, where a barely-invited chick who is sweating booze from the bottoms of her feet, decides that it is okay for her to go into the liquor cabinet and help herself to any and all of the top-shelf booze that Erik was meaning to be off-limits for the night.

5:00: The calm before the storm. The core group is here, but the invited guests will start coming soon. Perfect time for Billy, Erik and I to perpetuate the "Didya' make it rain?" joke and start telling extraordinarily offensive jokes at a decibel level that is way too high for social acceptability.

5:17: McCaw finally shows his face. He pulls me outside to pound a beer...all told McCaw was pretty tame this weekend...but that doesn't mean that he didn't vomit Saturday night.

5:49: Erik's wife walks by the bathroom and screams, "G**D*****! HE DID IT AGAIN!!!!!!" Later, I'll find out that she was FIREY ticked about one of the five guys staying at her place who was continually leaving the toilet seat up. No, I wasn't the repeat offender, but YES, I was the one who performed the act that set her into a Tourette's-inspired rage. Hopefully she doesn't read the blog...

6:22: The party has functionally been going for two hours among the core-alcoholics--and about an hour for the common-people...yet someone has vomited ALL OVER the bathroom. We never figured out who it was, but how hard do you have to be drinking if you've been at a party for an hour and you're already puking your guts out? And how can you drink that much without anybody noticing?


6:40: Oklahoma is starting to blowout Missouri. I guess you could have predicted it, but the fact that Ohio State is essentially locking up a spot in the National Title game makes me want to punch someone. Hmm...may want to remember that as you continue reading...

6:43: My brother, Mo, McCaw, McCaw's Girlfriend, a certain female attendee and I are discussing her performances at previous Christmas Parties. I decide to recap the entirety of her absolutely ridiculous showing two years ago. OKAY--maybe I went a HAIR overboard...but she genuinely left ten minutes later. I've offended a lot of people--but that was a strong showing even for me.

7:03: Worlds begin to collide as my OTHER San Francisco crew shows up. I introduce my friend Ryan's girlfriend, The Burger, to Erik's wife---and they realize that while they haven't met, they were essentially in the same place at the same time over Memorial Day in one of my worst ever blacked-out episodes where I managed to SERIOUSLY offend close associates of both of them. You know---it is really special when two groups of friends can come together and bond over my inability to act like a grown-up...

7:07: More commonalities--it turns out that the two friends of mine who are living out my dream of going back to college (not grad school---undergrad over-again with new focus) are not only at the same school, but share some classes. Within moments they've become study partners. Ryan sent me a text message Sunday morning telling me to thank Erik and Julie for their hospitality and to have Julie call him to study. Again--I'm not going to tell you Erik's wife's name---but it isn't Julie. I'm looking forward to what happens when "Julie" does call Ryan...

7:59: This is where the night starts blending in with itself...but I had a conversation with a former Logger and her boyfriend about how I wasn't going to renew my passport because I never want to leave the country again. I barely know these people---after a conversation like that, what are the odds they seek out my company in the future? I'm going to saw low to quite low...

8:38: Flash-forward to Sunday morning. My lips are chapped and torn apart. I realize that I'm massively dehydrated, but why are my lips so thrashed?
Flash-back. The Burger and I show the group that we can both put our entire fists in our mouths. McFly, you're a regular effing Einstein.

8:44: West Virginia goes down to Pitt, giving the numbers 1 and 2 teams in the country an 0-4 record over the past two weeks. We now know that it will be LSU-Ohio State in the National Title Game. I'll reserve comment, as tomorrow's blog will be McFly's solution to the BCS...

9:58: UW loses in absolutely crushing fashion to Hawaii. I'm going to be honest--I was rooting for Hawaii. Yes, I'm looking forward to seeing them and Georgia play...but more so, that loss SHOULD be the game that costs Ty Willingham his job. I'll probably find out that he hasn't been fired by the time this blog is published Monday morning...but there isn't a single fiber of anyone who understands football, business or even simple logic that believes he is fit to hold that position. I'm not going to continue this rant---but it is time. Do the right thing, UW.

10:50: McCaw's girlfriend and I discover full bottles of sparkling wine (California "champagne") in the fridge. You know what's great after about consuming about 40 beers in the past twenty-four hours? Drinking champagne straight from the bottle as you do the butt-dance with your friend's girlfriend.

10:55: As we're dancing, I'm realizing that I don't know ANYONE on the dance floor. Are they invited? This will be interesting...

11:07: I certainly wasn't there for it, but one of the unknown dancing girls is talking to Eastcoast by the bar. I don't know exactly what was said, but it broke down to her telling Eastcoast that she'd sleep with him if he could score them some coke...then Eastcoast explaining that he is pretty sure that not only does he not know how to get coke, he doesn't know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows how to get coke. In other news however--Eastcoast, a fledgling stand up comedian, has a whole act prepared because he just had his first encounter with an ACTUAL cokewhore.

11:39: After an unpleasant conversation between one of the cokewhores and Erik's wife, Erik stands on a chair and gives the ever-phenomenal: "If you weren't invited, get the F out of my house!" speech. With a little more encouragement, the cokewhores and their boyfriends leave.

11:53: My brother, McCaw's girlfriend and I are talking. Now--my brother and I are the two least-violent people on Earth----but McCaw's girlfriend is the instigator of all instigators. In two seconds, she has us convinced that the cokewhores are probably outside and we should go "regulate". Eh--why not??

11:54: Sure enough, they're right outside the building window trying to get back in. I open the door and the lead-cokewhore comes darting through. Me--in a high point of my life--give her a full punch/push right to the chest and knock her back about five feet. Yes, I hit a chick. But the amazing thing was that none of the guys she was with got mad---and none of the girls in our crew thought it was anything but absolutely appropriate for me to punch the chick. Maybe I've been going about it all wrong?? Maybe I should have just gone Billy Idol and beat the tar out of women wherever I went?? Yeah...let's go with that...

12:07: The keg is finally kicked. No worries--there is still a bartender making gin and tonics where there is six-times as much gin as there is tonic...the blackouts will continue to get deeper for a couple more hours...

12:31: One of the girls breaks out the panini-maker. Okay--if I'm throwing a party that is winding down and one of my guests breaks out my panini-maker, I absolutely hit the roof. Erik/wife don't notice...probably because their livers have been checked-out for three hours now...but I digest...

12:49: Billy passed out on the couch, face-first, about two hours ago. I remembered my friend Willard's college tradition of covering passed-out people with newspaper. My brother and I don't have any newspaper, so we decide to use every cushion on the couch, a large bag of garbage, a 49ers football helmet, and ultimately my brother's body---what can I say? We're resourceful.

12:58: It is only moments before Eastcoast decides that the 49ers helmet would be better-used on his head. So he dons it, goes outside, and starts wandering the neighborhood in a football helmet. When the police eventually (and inevitably) question him as to what he's doing, he says he's working on his 40 time. When they ask his name? "Jerry Rice." Somehow, he has avoided criminal prosecution twice today...

1:14: Erik and his wife's place is a beautiful condo in an old building. Completely restored and luxurious...but still with some of the old-building nuances...not the least of which is noisy plumbing from the neighbors. At this point of the evening Erik decides it is a good idea to put the remnants of the 20 or so limes and lemons Mo and I had cut earlier down the garbage disposal. Needless to say---his wife (and almost certainly his neighbors) DID NOT think that that was a good idea.

1:31: It is pretty much back to the core group--but Pete is passed out on a poorly-balanced stool in the kitchen, somehow leaning on a bunch of cookbooks that should be spilling all over the floor. Me, being a good friend, decide to hang a decorative pine cone-on-a-ribbon around his neck. Let me tell you--it was G**D*** adorable...

1:40: Do you know when it is time for you to leave a party that you're a guest of? When the people sleeping there start blowing up aerobeds in plain-sight.

Epilogue:

It took me all of about three seconds to pass out on my futon next to the Christmas tree. Apparently, moments after I went out, the toilet started overflowing all over the place, and every towel in the house became dedicated to cleanup.

As always, I was first up, went to the bathroom, grabbed a towel from the oddly-place stack of partially-used towels and shower up.

Yes, I dried myself with a poop-towel. A perfect ending to a a night where I made approximately zero good decisions...


SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!!!

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