Nascar Parties Are Like a Box of Chocolates
Because you never know what you're gonna bite into, and they never give you one of those little maps of your chocolate layout, so you can determine which one is the coconut and avoid it like it's stuffed with dung beetles.
Last night was my husband's company Christmas party. As my gigantic readership of like three is probably aware, my husband works on a Nascar team. So last night I got all tarted up to go compete in the unspoken yet totally understood "hottest ball and chain competition". He didn't really have any desire to go, as it's the middle of the work week and this party promised to go LATE. The cheap flyer invitation scheduled the toasts at 9:30pm and some band called Odie McCool starting up at 10pm. On a Wednesday night. At a work function. Who made up that schedule? Steve Carrell on The Office?
So the food was decent and the crowd was enormous. His team has more than quadrupled in size in the last several months, so he didn't even know most of the people there. The Hoochie Factor was surprisingly high. Most surprisingly, though was the Hootie Factor. Freaking Darius Rucker was there. W....T...F?!?
I bet he didn't even know why he was there.
Dude was last seen shilling Burger King Burgers in a silly outfit. Now he's nosedived into hanging out at Christmas parties for companies he doesn't even work for.
And he brought along the McCain least likely to be President: Edwin.
And "I'll be" lost to obscurity, showin' up...with my pal Dariuuuuus."
Actually, before we left Edwin strapped on an acoustic guitar and sang his two big songs and it was pretty awesome. He's still got a crazy good voice. Darius just walked around looking vaguely hostile and more than a little buzzed. He may have got up on stage after we left and brought the house down with Hootie jams, if "I Only Want To Be With You" could actually bring a house down. Doubtful, that.
We also saw Dale Jarrett, as he's going to be one of the drivers for the team next year. He was looking super pimp in a purple button up shirt, with his gleaming silver cropped hair. Michael, of course was also there, with his wife, Buffy. Buffy, like all driver wives, is quite pretty. Michael, on the other hand, still takes the cake as one of the goofiest mofos alive.
We got out of there before eleven, but with no fat bonus check in hand. It is yet to be determined if I hate him, but the end of the year is nigh, and he's real close to incurring my wrath.
We shall have to wait and see.
Last night was my husband's company Christmas party. As my gigantic readership of like three is probably aware, my husband works on a Nascar team. So last night I got all tarted up to go compete in the unspoken yet totally understood "hottest ball and chain competition". He didn't really have any desire to go, as it's the middle of the work week and this party promised to go LATE. The cheap flyer invitation scheduled the toasts at 9:30pm and some band called Odie McCool starting up at 10pm. On a Wednesday night. At a work function. Who made up that schedule? Steve Carrell on The Office?
So the food was decent and the crowd was enormous. His team has more than quadrupled in size in the last several months, so he didn't even know most of the people there. The Hoochie Factor was surprisingly high. Most surprisingly, though was the Hootie Factor. Freaking Darius Rucker was there. W....T...F?!?
I bet he didn't even know why he was there.
Dude was last seen shilling Burger King Burgers in a silly outfit. Now he's nosedived into hanging out at Christmas parties for companies he doesn't even work for.
And he brought along the McCain least likely to be President: Edwin.
And "I'll be" lost to obscurity, showin' up...with my pal Dariuuuuus."
Actually, before we left Edwin strapped on an acoustic guitar and sang his two big songs and it was pretty awesome. He's still got a crazy good voice. Darius just walked around looking vaguely hostile and more than a little buzzed. He may have got up on stage after we left and brought the house down with Hootie jams, if "I Only Want To Be With You" could actually bring a house down. Doubtful, that.
We also saw Dale Jarrett, as he's going to be one of the drivers for the team next year. He was looking super pimp in a purple button up shirt, with his gleaming silver cropped hair. Michael, of course was also there, with his wife, Buffy. Buffy, like all driver wives, is quite pretty. Michael, on the other hand, still takes the cake as one of the goofiest mofos alive.
We got out of there before eleven, but with no fat bonus check in hand. It is yet to be determined if I hate him, but the end of the year is nigh, and he's real close to incurring my wrath.
We shall have to wait and see.
posted by Connoisseur of Human Folly | 6:48 AM
3 Comments:
I loves me some Mikey.
Awesomely captioned.
To be fair, "Cracked Rear View" is one of the best album titles evar.
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