Daily Archives: October 9, 2011

Party or Bust?

So I got to wear my fancy dress last night at my Rockstar’s Mystery Dinner work party. Too bad I was drunk by the time I had to get dressed and couldn’t fully appreciate it. Oops! To tell the story of what ended up being a sucky party, I suppose I shall have to inform you of what happened at last year’s…

Once upon a time last year, Sparklebumps had a boyfriend who worked at a cabinet shop. (Because he’s very good with wood. HA!) Apparently, for some strange and mystifying reason, the Rockstar failed to mention his amazing and witty girlfriend Sparklebumps in any way to his co-workers. So when we went to the Christmas party, the company employees were immediately intrigued by this boisterous lush of a Sparklebumps who proceeded to get hammered in less than an hour. I will admit here that everything about my personality is magnified ten-thousandfold when I’m drinking, so that the funness I gush extends to those around me. (Yes, ok, I will also admit that I find myself completely amusing when I’m drunk, which in turn amuses other people immensely. I think.) So besides for getting to know everything about every one of my Rockstar’s co-workers (including that some of the guys’ women had bubbles that I invaded), I accidentally on-purpose happened to slap one or two of the guys, including the boss. (To which I announced to all the horrified employees “You know I just did what all of you guys want to do every day!”) Be assured, I apologized profusely to each and every person I slapped, and explained that I really did love them all and didn’t mean anything by it. I believed myself to be forgiven, as drunk people tend to be more exonerating than the non-inebriated. Anyhoo, I ended up cleaning up the whole party, (as I am wont to do when tipsy) hugged everybody goodbye, and went home with my Rockstar telling me how utterly “incorrigible” I am. He was amused by the whole thing, since he thinks he works with a bunch of idiotic AssHats.

This year, the party began outdoors with assorted alcoholic refreshments, and needless to say, because of my drunken antics of the past year, EVERYBODY remembered me. (And my DDD’s that they insisted were fake last year.) I noticed immediately that there seemed to be two cliques situating themselves far from each other- the dorkiest of the employees, and the slightly less-dorky. In highschool, it seemed I was one of those rare people who could mesh easily enough with the popular crowd and the misfits, so with my yum-yum Bacardi Diet in hand, I flitted from one group to another. I realized last night that dorky people are much nicer than less-dorky people, so yay for them that they were graced with more of my presence. Anyhoo, we then were instructed to go get changed into our costumes for the Murder Mystery Dinner.

When we all congregated in front of the dinner building, I believe my Rockstar was slightly embarrassed to find he was the ONLY one not wearing a costume. (I TOLD him!) Oh, well. We went inside and the silliness began.

I had the pleasure *snort* of getting to sit next to my Rockstar’s Boss. He was nice enough, though I think he remained watchful and gaurded in case I decided to slap him for some drunken reason. The dinner dragged on for at least 3 1/2 hours, in which time I entertained myself by getting to know the waitresses and asking the other costumed people for accessories of theirs that i thought they could live without. (I accrued a spelunking helmet, 1 cigar, 1 silken hankerchief, a top hat that I decorated with the edible flowers from my dinner, (which somebody ate) and one admonishment from a bitchy wife saying how I was worse that her kids about asking for stuff) I also got to sit straight across the room from my Rockstar, who I made googly eyes at and shared annoyed looks with over the ridiculousness of trying to getting a bunch of intoxicated people to figure out a murder mystery. After the dinner, (at which we discovered that I did NOT kill anybody) we went back to change into duds and then congregate around a fire pit.

I had the distinct pleasure to meet a few guests of the place who were NOT part of our party- two lovely sisters who were very sparkly, their mother who liked wine, and one of there husbands who had a distinguished suit coat on and carried a very debonair Louisiana accent. These happened to be the most interesting people I encountered all night. After I walked them all out to their car, (amidst many hugs and “I’m so glad I met you!”s) I marched on looking for the fun. I entertained myself by mixing drinks and pressing them into people’s hands insisting, “It’s really good!” and imbibing 3 ham sandwiches. I rushed from person to person, asking how things were going, and argued with the Boss on the many reasons I, as a non-company employee, deserved one of the cigars he was handing out. I even managed to obtain a cowbell someone had been rewarded, and sported it proudly between my busooms until someone took it away. (Boo.) The night took a turn for the worse while I was conversing very nicely with one of the guys, and then he belched in my face. I realize that people generally beomce more uncouth the drunker they get, but I maintain my manners at all times, and expect others to in the least not belch in my face. I slapped him and he got really pissed and told me I was, “A waste of air, and to go get a life.” I apologized for slapping him (though I still believe he was ruder than I) but he would have none of it. I asked one of the other guys what he was so pissed about, (as I do not believe my drunken hand could have slapped him THAT hard) and he said, “You know, when you showed up for the first time last year and slapped someone, we all thought about THIS much of you”(holding up fingers to indicate not much) “And now we think even less.” Well, la dee da. So I decided to go back to our cabin and take a jacuzzi bath.

I realize that I can be somewhat obnoxious when I’m drunk, but really, I just want everybody to have a good time. I don’t even attempt to talk to women anymore when I’m drinking, because all I receive in return are looks of disgust, and I don’t know if it’s because they think I’m nuts or are just jealous. I don’t try to steal their men, and I try to include everyone in conversation. But apparently, there’s something threatening about me.

While I took a bath, my drunken Rockstar kept me company and we gossipped about how un-fun everyone there was. (or as he put it, “I work with a bunch of dickheads, don’t I?” When I got out of the tub, we realized that everybody went to bed, (some partiers THEY are) and so he and I sat near the fire pit and just talked. I told him next year, we shouldn’t waste our time and should just stay home with our fun selves.

P.S. I stole a mammoth bowl of candy they had sitting out for everyone. The funny thing is, everyone saw me walk right out of there with it and didn’t say a thing, so obviously they didn’t want any. That was the highlight of my night. I have now enough candy to feed a third world country. XOXO


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