My work-sponsored Christmas party was held Friday night. It was a blast, and I even remember most of it. Though the last, say, five hours are sort of a blur. Like, I can recall stuff that happened . . . but it’s just that those final five hours seemed to only take place over a two hour span.

Dinner was at Old Hickory. I had a halibut steak — can you say “company paid for” — and beer. The real drinking began first at Sloopy’s, where we warmed up (with vodka!) until a bunch of grandmas started dancing, then me continued the night at some place called Hammerjack’s. It’s this big-ass club, which was interesting. Very loud and smoky, with tons of people — many of them attractive girls — packed tightly together. Apparently Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite was there, guest DJ-ing, but I didn’t meet him, nor did I really care to. According to one of my coworkers, Sarah, he was an asshole, so it doesn’t sound like I missed much.

Eventually it was three in the morning, and the club employees were banging on cow bells and other objects, which meant it was time for the cattle to get the hell out. Sarah gave me a lift to Nate’s. (I left my car at work, which is in Huber Heights, and since she had to drive near Huber to go home, she was kind enough to haul my drunk ass to Nate’s, so I could sleep my drunk off.) I woke at nine, still feeling the effects of my imbibing, had Nate take me to my car, drove home, showered, and slept for two more hours.

No pictures — or “pitchers” if you prefer — for this one, though I do recall Stephanie had a disposable camera at Sloopy’s. If I can get a copy of some of those, they may very well find their way here.

JAB