Michael for Christmas

Tonight, Spliff and I watched the video of the Christmas party. You know, the one that had the scavenger hunt and the all-night debauchery? Yeah. Bad. The only good thing about the whole thing is that the video did NOT include “the spinning incident” which involved me and a gay guy that I instantly fell in love with who insisted that I spin him like a princess, repeatedly, across the dance floor, resulting, eventually, in him toppling into the stage and having to be picked up by several larger guys. All the while, I stood aside laughing my face off. Although I was thankful that this was not documented, I was not thankful that I look like a huge cow. (That’s right, not a medium-sized one, a HUGE cow.) I looked like Godzilla. In really hot pinstriped pants. Seriously.

We did, however, get to watch the skits again. The best of which, was the four girls who dressed up as the four different stages of Michael Jackson with Spliff’s boss clutching (and molesting) a doll she called “Blanket”. Seriously sick, SERIOUSLY hilarious. And reminding me of many moons ago when the idiots in our living room who opposed the MJ tried to reenact the “air split” and one of them tore their hamstring. In half. Yep. Fucking hilarious. Those fools are in town this weekend. And hopefully there will be no torn…things. But it IS Cinco de Mayo tomorrow. And that IS when the fools rock my face off the most. It is our token holiday, after all.

Let the debauchery begin.

No comments: