My friend’s annual Festivus party is always a good time. Now, if you somehow managed to be born under a rock and not be aware of Seinfeld, read about Festivus via it’s Wikipedia. The colors red & white are strictly forbidden, as are the words happy and merry. You won’t find any sort of nog, but you will find gin, vodka, rum, vermouth, bourbon, tequila, a wide array of liquors, and at least two kegs of imported.
I invited Nicole (breaking the three day rule), but she sadly had a shift at the hospital, and couldn’t make it down. This was probably for the best because partys are an easy way to meet someone knew and get a different girl from the project.
I walked in with the intent to keep a low (read: sober) profile…and it wasn’t entirely my fault that I was having a stellar winning streak at both beer pong, and stop. Kara and I make way too good a team in drinking games, and we wanted to keep our streak alive. I’m pretty sure that’s what any guy is really looking for in a girl, the ability to pick up the last cup in beer pong, while you clinch the early lead. I’m pretty sure that’s why Fitzgerald kept Zelda around.
My not quite clear memory makes me think that Nicole fell victim to a semi-cute, semi-annoying, entirely too drunk voicemail. Logic came back out to play and I shut my phone off after that, and went back inside to the party. I went back to the pong table, and my opponents, two blondes, were talking a fairly big game. Now, this was at least my fifth straight, so my aim got to be nothing shy of completely embarrassing. I did, however, aim well enough to find myself in the bathroom with one of them thirty minutes later. Even on our strongest weeks we fall victim to the weakest parts of our selves in traditional party trappings, even at the non-traditional holiday party.
I didn’t even really want to hook up with the girl. I don’t feel exactly proud of it, despite the fact that she was a solid looking girl with great legs and a velvet laugh. I don’t feel good about it, and I’m pretty sure a few people more than noticed my hour-long disappearance. You can play coy, but you are only playing yourself when the people who know you best notice. I got a few pats on the back, and a playful elbow nudge from a Who fan.
