The Scented Lotion of Blog Posts

December 9, 2009 at 4:27 pm 10 comments

You know how to tell if someone has no clue what to get you and/or doesn’t really have time to give a shit? You open your gift and see this:

The gift that says “I don’t know what the fuck you like, but you certainly could afford to smell better.”

Yeah, so that is the gist of the blog post you are getting today. I’m busy, I’m scattered, I got a completely unreasonable four-ish hours of sleep last night, and although I SO WANT to have a polished and well thought-out post for you today, I’m just flinging some random bullshit at you and calling it a day. But I fling with love! With love!

Here! Have some impossible chubby cheeks!* Does that help?!

So, let’s see…what is there to tell? Well, last Friday we went to Brad’s workplace holiday party, which used to be here in the swank club level facilities, and which used to feature:

  1. A full bar with top shelf liquor;
  2. A DJ and dance floor;
  3. Acres of food, including one entire table dedicated solely to A PASTA BAR (yes, you read that right);
  4. Desserts in such numbers that they had to actually clear all the other food from the serving tables in order to accommodate the ricockulous variety of cheesecakes, pies & cookies;
  5. A very drunk and bloated and happy Jive Turkey. I mean, PASTA BAR, my friends. Two of my favorite words and things, coming together in convenient adjacent fashion to create something truly wondrous in the most holy season of miracles.

What Carb Is This?

This year, however, the party was taking place here. Fancy! That’s where Obama and all the world leader types had their big G20 dinner back in September, which is cool and all, but my main concern was more along the lines of “will they be able to move enough of those damn plants to make room for the Pasta Bar?”

Oh, dear. I just mussed my pants.

Somewhere along the line, I heard the words “limited budget” mentioned in conjunction with this party, so when we walked in and saw that the full bar had been reduced to just beer and wine, I wasn’t that surprised. I mean, OK, fine. I SUPPOSE if I was Baby Jesus, I’d still go ahead and be born this year. But when I saw the very-much-pasta-less food table?

“Um…I was told there’d be a pasta bar?”

Internet, the food was highly lame. If you’re going to hold a party from 6-9pm, people are going to show up hungry and expecting some fucking DINNER, yo. The food table offered only blanched vegetables and bread cubes, which were to be dipped in some seriously separated, lukewarm beer cheese.

I’m sorry, but I’d rather eat “pasteurized prepared cheese product” than “real cheese that looks like orange oatmeal doused in baby oil.”

There were also waiters and waitresses wandering around with some fancier hors d’oeuvres on plates, but there were a limited amount of these more substantial foods, and seeing as how we arrived at our usual time of one-hour-late-because-we-have-a-baby o’clock, supplies were dwindling. I actually watched the same waitress mosey around for about 30 minutes with ONE LONE FUCKING SHRIMP on her serving dish. I’m talking a straight-up, plain-ass piece of shrimp  – no sticks or leaves or sauces in sight.  She couldn’t unload it because she kept approaching groups of MORE THAN ONE and offering THE LONE FUCKING SHRIMP. And who wants to be the asshole who takes THE LONE FUCKING SHRIMP? Not I.

I would have, however, taken the Lone [fucking] Ranger, as I imagine I could have split him nicely amongst several of my fellow partygoers.

I noticed that there was a dessert table that had some sort of cheesecake-y looking things, but by the time I made it over there? At the ripe old hour of eight o’clock? As in, A WHOLE HOUR before the party was scheduled to end? There was nothing left except four pathetic chocolate chip cookies on a plate.

I totally took one. Although now that I think about it, this might have been someone’s personal plate of cookies. Oh well.

So, basically, I got all dressed up to  go eat baby carrots, cubes of bread, cheese, and a cookie. In other words, I totally could have had the same evening IN MY OWN FUCKING HOUSE. So we did what any reasonable pair of adults would do: we ditched the party with the free booze to go get hammered on overpriced drinks somewhere else.

What else…hmmm. Well, on Sunday I discovered that the most remarkable change that has happened within me since the baby was born is that after YEARS of insisting we get a real Christmas tree (even when we lived in NYC! We dragged a fucking seven-footer ten blocks and crammed that bitch into a one-bedroom, oh yes we did), I suddenly have no further interest in erecting a $60 needle factory in my house. It’s expensive, it’s a mess, the damn thing always kicks it while we’re visiting family, making the removal of the lights such an aggressively scratchy experience that one year we just chucked the entire tree AND the multiple strands of lights therein. So we up and bought ourselves an artificial tree that was assembled in ten minutes (lights included!) and never needs watered. Seeing an artificial tree in my house made me sad for about 4.3 seconds, and then I remembered the day last week when neither of us remembered to FEED THE CAT and thought HEY, maybe we don’t really need another living thing in the house after all.

I think it is evident that we never forget to feed this one. In other news: CHUBBY LEGS IN POLKA DOT TIGHTS NOM NOM NOM.

And that’s about it, I guess. Sorry for the lack of, well, EVERYTHING. I’ll be back soon with something more, I promise!

I am now realizing that I have just slighted you blog-post-wise much in the same way I was slighted pasta-bar-wise by that pathetic fondue shit at the party. Oops.

*Guess who got to see those impossibly chubby cheeks last night at 11pm, whenever they woke up randomly and FOR NO REASON, all smiles and ready to play? And guess who struggled to put those cheeks back in their crib for two hours? And guess who saw those cheeks again at 5:20am?

These assholes. Who will apparently never learn to just fucking go to bed early already.

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Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.

PAY IT FORWARD: Brown People & Liberals Are Ruining My Christmas! PAY IT FORWARD: You Make A Difference!

10 Comments Add your own

  • 1. kristin @ going country  |  December 9, 2009 at 7:20 pm

    Beer cheese? Do I even want to know what that is? Exactly what it sounds like, I presume.

    Parties without adequate food are a pet peeve of mine. I will not say the “e” word, because I am sick of it, but when this, ahem, downturn starts resulting in shitty party food, then you know it’s serious.

    Reply
  • 2. Amy  |  December 9, 2009 at 11:22 pm

    Ah, JT – you are a better person than I. I would have taken the Lone Shrimp.

    Reply
  • 3. Simon  |  December 10, 2009 at 3:11 pm

    … or as we say in our house, “What better way to say ‘I don’t really care’ than with the gift of a gift certificate.”

    Reply
  • 4. FoST  |  December 10, 2009 at 4:47 pm

    Wow…that is one lame Christmas Party!! I promise ours will be better and hopefully worth it.

    Reply
    • 5. jiveturkey  |  December 11, 2009 at 10:14 am

      FoST: I expect there will be hard serve…?

      Reply
      • 6. HoST  |  December 11, 2009 at 6:32 pm

        I think you mean “hard pack.”

  • 7. Amy  |  December 10, 2009 at 4:57 pm

    How weird it is to read this most fabulous post that begins with the gift of none other than Juniper Breeze lotion? Yes, the exact lotion I received from my sister-in-law for five years running, because SHE loves the stuff! Me? Not so much.

    I agree, parties, playdates, beach days, etc, where people do not bring enough food for their own family or provide food for guests, are a huge pet peeve with me also. You won’t find Lone Shrimps at my house, or Velveeta. You just might find some home brew, however, and home made cheese, for that matter. The tree is real, and has 1400 lights on it, and yes, I loathe the mess, but I just can’t make myself do fake. I get it, though.

    Okay, back to reading, and laughing…

    Reply
  • 8. Sara  |  December 10, 2009 at 11:47 pm

    You know what’s funny? I almost got my sister some lotion (in pearberry, her favorite) because I didn’t know what to get her for Chanukah. My own TWIN sister was going to receive some lotion! And she’d like it! (Said Grumpy Old Man style.) I ended up getting her something else, but I laughed when I saw your title.

    Our company cancelled its big holiday party this year. I’ve only gone twice in the last five years, and after the last time, I swore I’d never go again. The food was never great, and it was cash bar (effers!), but they did have tasty desserts. Next week is the potluck lunch that I never want to go to, but we have to participate. Blech. I hate community food; I’ve seen where those hands have been! (Ever seen my very old but very favorite post about soap? http://www.howeverabsurd.com/2006/06/07/soap/)

    Reply
    • 9. jiveturkey  |  December 11, 2009 at 10:16 am

      OK, this is weird – that link somehow takes me to a post about what happens to you when you turn 29. What the eff? Maybe the end parentheses is screwing it up. I shall find it.

      Reply
      • 10. Sara  |  December 12, 2009 at 12:59 am

        We’re both so awesome because we like the same soap! And because, well, we’re just both so awesome. And yes, it was the end parentheses, damn it, although that was a good post, too. Of course.

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