I don't know of many people who actually enjoy going to their spouse's work Christmas party. I always get caught making polite conversation with people I only see once a year and listen to heated discussions about subjects I know nothing about (hubby is in oil and gas and I am an artist/writer. I speak English, they speak ancient Bull Schnoodle).
The enjoyment level of said parties is contingent upon who you sit next to. For the past couple of years my sitting companions have not been all that stellar. This year... well, the entertainment factor has exponentially increased.
The new guy at work is a gun loving, gun toting meteorologist turned geo-tech who has a picture of his grammy cradling an AK-47 on his cell phone and has an escape plan for when zombies attack. Seriously worth sitting next to. A younger geologist (and new to me) came in with her boyfriend who looked bored out of his mind trying to keep up with all the oil jargon. Poor guy. I know what he was going through. Wasabi Guy was there again. Wasabi Guy downed a hunk of wasabi a year ago and nearly passed out. Not bright, but he has good dry humor.
The best part about the big company party (aside from the amazingly awesome food) is people watching. Out on the dance floor you get the usual drunk who really shouldn't be dancing, soiling the underarms of their tux's with sweat, but every once and a while you get the older couple (50's ish) doing tush squeezes in time to Motown. My hubby isn't much of a dancer. He puts the literal meaning to white men can't dance, but he humors me on slow numbers where he can't elbow anyone.
Anyway, it was fantastic and I forgot to take pictures and we got home by 10pm which is late for us old timers. And that was the lamest post I've posted yet because really, unless you were there all this is just a travel log of boredom. Congrats to me for the post of serious lameness! Yay!
I need a nap.
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