We had the Wal-Mart Christmas party at Nick’s house last night. It wasn’t the “official” Wal-Mart party for everyone at the store — just for those of us who work in the lab, connection center, and Krystel from electronics. Jason didn’t attend, because he is a Very Bad Person, though Bill from Trotwood was there.

It had been a good day for me, but I must admit I wasn’t too excited about going ahead of time. After I got to Nick’s, I found my second wind (it was hiding in the bushes) and had a grrr-eat! time. There was drinking involved, but not so much that I couldn’t drive home okay. Andrew even partook of some alcohol, which I think is his first time ever. One might even go so far as to say Andrew punctured his metaphorical alcohol-hymen at Nick’s house. Nick’s ladyfriend, Diana, was kind enough to make fancy food-trays after coming home from work and before going to her sister’s. Thanks Diana!

I brought Lindsey’s new digital camera, a Canon Powershot A520 that is 4 megapixels with a 4X optical zoom, and took some photos for the hell of it. I find I enjoy being that creepy guy at parties with the camera, putting on a forced, zany facade, and inserting myself into conversations and taking photos of everyone, especially the girls. It’s a great way to get slapped and/or maced. Unfortunately, our work environment is a sausage-fest, so Krystel was the only girl there.

She’s smiling for the photo, but don’t be fooled. Right after I took it, she beat the shit out of me and stole my wallet. Maybe being that creepy guy isn’t that fun after all.

Before getting my ass furtherly stomped at Halo 2 (may the makers of that game rot and broil in the eternal fires of hell), we stood around talking for a while, waiting for everyone to arrive. Shortly after the talking and the standing commenced, we found hats.

Man, we look tough in that photo, like real cowboys. Almost like we rode horses, herding cattle with lassos and killing indians, and, I dunno…stuff. Though I think Andrew looked the best in a hat.

I can’t tell if he’s a cowboy or a pimp. Maybe he’s — gasp — both. A cowpimp or something.

As I said earlier, there was drinking involved. Ryan especially took to the libations with much gusto, so of course it wasn’t long before he had no pants on.

I shudder to think just what that hat is doing to him that would elicit the face he’s making. Moving on…

The highlight of the evening — or perhaps “The evening hit rockbottom” would be a more accurate opening — was when the gift exchange began. Someone had the bright decision of doing something different for this gift exchange (I think it was Nick, that bastard.) Instead of doing a secret Santa, we did a crappy Christmas, which shouldn’t be confused with a Cleveland steamer. What this basically entails is this: numbers are drawn, and whoever gets numero uno opens a gift. He or she has to keep the gift at this point. Numero dos can decide to open another gift, or steal what numero uno has. Then numero tres has the option of opening a gift or stealing one of numero uno or dos’s gift. This continues throughout the rest of the numbers. So there was much swapping of sweet gifts, like an XM radio and “Chapelle’s Show: Season 2″ (but not my gift, which was an awesome toy lightsaber), and then the atmo progressed from friendly stealing to outright, cutthroat shanghaiing. Eventually, and I stress the word eventually, the situation sorted itself out. I wound up with the lightsaber I’d bought, which was fine with me, as I’m just going to return it tomorrow.

We settled down a bit, hung out some more, and then I capped off the night with a surprise for everyone: an acoustic performance of my popular Christian country ballad, “Jesus Is My Motor.”

He’s the proxy of a vengeful God
He’s also my best friend.
Jesus is my motor
And his message I portend.

After that point, the party started breaking up. Krystel gave me my wallet back, then I drove home screaming along with Screeching Weasel’s “Anthem For a New Tomorrow.”

Like I said, it was a good time.

JAB