I'm Wearing Smiley-Face Boxers
(and they glow in the dark)
That's right. Be jealous.
So this weekend was incredible and awful at the same time. To wit:
The Good:
Julie and I had a great time at the party. They had a live pasta bar at dinner where you could order all these kinds of pasta with all kinds of things in it and three kinds of sauces and they would cook it right in front of you. It was awesome. The marinara was also incredible.
Then, Julie and I were utterly cleaning up at the Texas Hold-Em table. Despite the fact that roulette, craps, and blackjack were all available, we spent the entire two hours at the same table. With each of us starting at 10,000 chips, I was up to 40000 and Julie was up to 35000 at one point. I lost it all on the last hand of the night - which was fine with me - but Julie stayed up, tripling her starting amount. While the raffle (where you turned in chips for raffle tickets) didn't get us anything, we were still pretty happy.
The highlight of the night was after the card games were over, when everyone was going to the dance floor. However, with 300 people in the company, people kept gradually filing in, and no one seemed to want to get on the dance floor. At one point there was 200 people in the banquet room (with tables for 300 in a 180 degree arc around the huge dance floor) and there were maybe 10 people dancing, all of them women. Seriously. This was not helped by the fact that the DJ was playing songs like "Man, I Feel Like A Woman." Hint to all DJ's: If you want to get people to dance - particularly men - DO NOT PLAY "MAN, I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN." MEN AVOID THIS SONG LIKE A ROOT CANAL VIA THE INTESTINAL TRACT. Anyway, sensing desperation, I went to the DJ and requested a swing song, and after some questioning determined that the only song that he had out of the 90's swing era was "Zoot Suit Riot" by the Cherry Poppin Daddies. This song is one of the fastest and most energetic ones there is. And it's also about 4 minutes long, an eternity when you're going as fast as the song is. To top it off, I have traditionally danced Zoot Suit Riot with Margaret, who can match the intensity that the song requires. Julie has always been hesitant to dance to it for that reason, both because it's tough to match the energy and because we usually don't dance to it. Also, to say that we were rusty was an extreme understatement. Julie had gone swing dancing maybe twice in the last year. But it was the only option, we shrugged and gave it a try.
We chased everyone off the dance floor within 10 seconds. On a huge dance floor, in front of my entire company, Julie and I put on a swing dancing show for 4 minutes in front of 200 people. We got cheers for most things we did, and nearly brought the house down with the Pretzel (if you know swing dancing moves). By the end it was pretty sloppy, as both of us were gasping for air (the song is a nightmare to go the full length of). But we finished nicely and we got an ovation from the 200+ people watching. It was pretty incredible. The DJ went nuts. We got to bow and staggered off, and after that there were plenty more people dancing. We got compliments throughout the night.
The Bad:
After the dance, Julie and I practically died. I had a tough time breathing, something that hadn't happened for months, and I was suddenly reminded that February was ending and spring was coming, and with it my newfound allergy-induced asthma. Damn asthma, I feel like some kind of diseased bug. It's not even real asthma. The people with real asthma probably are much more at peace with their problem, but spending most of my life healthy and active and never worrying for a minute about something as simplistic as breathing makes me infuriated that something as simple as the time of year or a lot of cigarette smoke could lower my maximum air capacity drastically - not a problem when you're sitting or walking around, but if you go into a majorly vigorous swing dance and suddenly need your full air capacity and don't have it, there's suddenly a desperate need for air. So I spent a good 15 minutes sitting down, attempting to gradually get my airflow back under control. Meanwhile, Julie's bronchitis (a yearly winter occurence) wasn't too happy either, so she sounded like a demon of hell with a sore throat. The night was almost over, we hadn't won anything in the raffle, so we decided to call it a night.
After coming home from a big dance (it was a semi-formal) one might think some amorous events might be in the air. Whatever our intentions were, though, were quickly changed when I had to go to the bathroom and throw up everything I've eaten for the last two days. Within an hour I was joined by Julie, who threw up everything she had eaten. We alternated for the rest of the night and through the dark morning, in which my bathroom rug was ruined and both of us had gotten about a half-hour of sleep.
At some point - around 11 AM - Julie was bent over the bathtub and I was bent over the toilet, neither of us speaking, for about 45 minutes. Finally, I managed, "This was not quite how I meant to spend the day."
I'm sure she would have laughed, but we were busy throwing up at the time.
So I didn't even drive her back to the airport because I was so destroyed. (So was she. Her mom had to pull the car over on the way to the airport.) I didn't stop throwing up until Sunday night.
We're pretty sure that it was food poisoning, considering we both had the same symptoms, same starting time, and same duration. We both had prime rib - from back-to-back slices - so we think that was the culprit. But whatever the case, look out.
So Monday I called off from the half-day I was taking - I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon - and the most interesting thing that happened was me answering the pizza guy shirtless and pants unbuttoned and unzippered. Honestly, I have never answered the pizza guy with more than pants on. Sometimes just boxers. Once I only used a stuffed shark. But that's another story.
That's right. Be jealous.
So this weekend was incredible and awful at the same time. To wit:
The Good:
Julie and I had a great time at the party. They had a live pasta bar at dinner where you could order all these kinds of pasta with all kinds of things in it and three kinds of sauces and they would cook it right in front of you. It was awesome. The marinara was also incredible.
Then, Julie and I were utterly cleaning up at the Texas Hold-Em table. Despite the fact that roulette, craps, and blackjack were all available, we spent the entire two hours at the same table. With each of us starting at 10,000 chips, I was up to 40000 and Julie was up to 35000 at one point. I lost it all on the last hand of the night - which was fine with me - but Julie stayed up, tripling her starting amount. While the raffle (where you turned in chips for raffle tickets) didn't get us anything, we were still pretty happy.
The highlight of the night was after the card games were over, when everyone was going to the dance floor. However, with 300 people in the company, people kept gradually filing in, and no one seemed to want to get on the dance floor. At one point there was 200 people in the banquet room (with tables for 300 in a 180 degree arc around the huge dance floor) and there were maybe 10 people dancing, all of them women. Seriously. This was not helped by the fact that the DJ was playing songs like "Man, I Feel Like A Woman." Hint to all DJ's: If you want to get people to dance - particularly men - DO NOT PLAY "MAN, I FEEL LIKE A WOMAN." MEN AVOID THIS SONG LIKE A ROOT CANAL VIA THE INTESTINAL TRACT. Anyway, sensing desperation, I went to the DJ and requested a swing song, and after some questioning determined that the only song that he had out of the 90's swing era was "Zoot Suit Riot" by the Cherry Poppin Daddies. This song is one of the fastest and most energetic ones there is. And it's also about 4 minutes long, an eternity when you're going as fast as the song is. To top it off, I have traditionally danced Zoot Suit Riot with Margaret, who can match the intensity that the song requires. Julie has always been hesitant to dance to it for that reason, both because it's tough to match the energy and because we usually don't dance to it. Also, to say that we were rusty was an extreme understatement. Julie had gone swing dancing maybe twice in the last year. But it was the only option, we shrugged and gave it a try.
We chased everyone off the dance floor within 10 seconds. On a huge dance floor, in front of my entire company, Julie and I put on a swing dancing show for 4 minutes in front of 200 people. We got cheers for most things we did, and nearly brought the house down with the Pretzel (if you know swing dancing moves). By the end it was pretty sloppy, as both of us were gasping for air (the song is a nightmare to go the full length of). But we finished nicely and we got an ovation from the 200+ people watching. It was pretty incredible. The DJ went nuts. We got to bow and staggered off, and after that there were plenty more people dancing. We got compliments throughout the night.
The Bad:
After the dance, Julie and I practically died. I had a tough time breathing, something that hadn't happened for months, and I was suddenly reminded that February was ending and spring was coming, and with it my newfound allergy-induced asthma. Damn asthma, I feel like some kind of diseased bug. It's not even real asthma. The people with real asthma probably are much more at peace with their problem, but spending most of my life healthy and active and never worrying for a minute about something as simplistic as breathing makes me infuriated that something as simple as the time of year or a lot of cigarette smoke could lower my maximum air capacity drastically - not a problem when you're sitting or walking around, but if you go into a majorly vigorous swing dance and suddenly need your full air capacity and don't have it, there's suddenly a desperate need for air. So I spent a good 15 minutes sitting down, attempting to gradually get my airflow back under control. Meanwhile, Julie's bronchitis (a yearly winter occurence) wasn't too happy either, so she sounded like a demon of hell with a sore throat. The night was almost over, we hadn't won anything in the raffle, so we decided to call it a night.
After coming home from a big dance (it was a semi-formal) one might think some amorous events might be in the air. Whatever our intentions were, though, were quickly changed when I had to go to the bathroom and throw up everything I've eaten for the last two days. Within an hour I was joined by Julie, who threw up everything she had eaten. We alternated for the rest of the night and through the dark morning, in which my bathroom rug was ruined and both of us had gotten about a half-hour of sleep.
At some point - around 11 AM - Julie was bent over the bathtub and I was bent over the toilet, neither of us speaking, for about 45 minutes. Finally, I managed, "This was not quite how I meant to spend the day."
I'm sure she would have laughed, but we were busy throwing up at the time.
So I didn't even drive her back to the airport because I was so destroyed. (So was she. Her mom had to pull the car over on the way to the airport.) I didn't stop throwing up until Sunday night.
We're pretty sure that it was food poisoning, considering we both had the same symptoms, same starting time, and same duration. We both had prime rib - from back-to-back slices - so we think that was the culprit. But whatever the case, look out.
So Monday I called off from the half-day I was taking - I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon - and the most interesting thing that happened was me answering the pizza guy shirtless and pants unbuttoned and unzippered. Honestly, I have never answered the pizza guy with more than pants on. Sometimes just boxers. Once I only used a stuffed shark. But that's another story.
So after all that, I can only end this entry one way:
On Friday, my parents gave me one of my Christmas presents I forgot at the house. That's right. Smiley face boxers. And the smileys glow in the dark.
Oh yeah.
Labels: Little Organisms That Invade My Cells, Those Of The Feminine Persuasion
posted by Mat | 11:37 PM
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