Halloween Party Recap

I usually don’t like going to parties. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I don’t like making the initial commitment to attend the party, possibly missing out on something else, or if it’s the fact that I’d probably have to talk to people I don’t know that well and more than likely make an ass out of myself when I’m ready to go and my ride isn’t. I don’t determine when it’s time, the beer does. But for some strange reason I signed up for the FA’s friend’s Halloween Party this last Friday. Not only did I say I’d go, I agreed to watch the door for $50 and free beer. $50 isn’t much but it adds up when you consider if I didn’t do the job I’d be spending $30 at the corner bar which corresponds to an $80 swing.

The evening did not start out well at all. I don’t like dressing up for things, period. This includes such things as board meetings, funerals, weddings, and especially Halloween. But I figured I had this one licked. I was going to wear the referee shirt I used to wear in college when I did 5th-8th grade basketball games, black pants and black shoes. Referee working the door, get it? I had tried on the shirt the night before and surprisingly it fit with just a little tightness in the arms. Then I went to go put on the black pants. Eight years out of college and the shirt still fit and the freaking pants I bought just two years ago didn’t fit. I mean, I got them on and everything and they would have been fine for an hour at church but most certainly not for six hours at a party where you plan on temporarily storing approximately 300 ounces of liquids somewhere. So then I got nervous. When I get nervous I sweat. There I was bent over rummaging through the ever growing pile of clothes on the bedroom floor looking for my black wind pants with drops of sweat running down my forehead. Eventually I found them and managed to calm down a bit. I was ahead of schedule but still had to get gas and cigarettes.

I drove to the gas station and filled up the tank. I had to wait in line a bit which automatically triggered the sweat glands. “Do you have gel in your hair?” the attendant asked me. It got worse when I made it all the way back to the car when I realized I forgot to buy a lighter. There I went, back to the store, waiting in line, sweating even more as my internal clock was telling me I had to get going.

I finally got on the freeway and started towards the FA’s house around 6:30. It usually takes 15-20 minutes to get there so I was looking at arriving at least 10 minutes early. This was key because I hate being late and I had two beers with me that I planned on slamming before leaving the FA’s house. And then I saw the never ending river of red lights in front of me that limited me from going any faster than 30 mph. What happened next? Yep, you got it, started sweating all over again. Constantly had a cigarette lit for the whole trip. After two wrong turns I arrived right at 7:00. Not too bad, I guess. What was bad was realizing that I had locked my keys in the car. Not good.

We had to wait for WoFA’s (Wife of Financial Advisor) friend to show up so we could all ride in one car. I drank my beer and made small talk with the FA’s mom and even smaller talk with PBR (FA’s 18-mo-old daughter). I’m telling you, I can get that kid to smile every time. Eventually the friend showed up and we hit the road.

It took us a while but we found the place. FA’s friend had gotten a warehouse which was located in a dimly lit industrial park. Inside he had partitioned it off into two rooms. The first room was like a dance floor with the DJ, speakers, and stripper pole. The back room included the bar, some tables, and the bathroom. Overall it was a pretty nice setup with the lighting and decorations.

Yes, I was the first one to test out the keg. I have no idea what kind of beer it was but you know how that goes: free beer always tastes good. For some reason it was always real foamy and you could only get about eight ounces in the 16 ounce cups. No big deal if you’re just an attendee, but when you have to stay all the way on the other side of the building by the front door, yeah, I had some growing concerns. I took my position at about 8:00. He had a narrow hallway set up right inside the door so instead of blocking traffic I decided to “set up shop” outside. It was still fairly nice outside, probably around 50 degrees and clear.

People started to arrive shortly after. We weren’t the only ones to have problems finding the place. The people who had found it were outside on their cell phone trying to help out their friends. There was this one chick dressed up in one of those short skirt jobbies with her hair in ponytails. She was on her phone trying to give her friend directions.

Girl: What was your name again?

Me: B to the…

Girl, back on phone: B to the… is standing outside the door and he has a referee outfit on. (Hangs up phone.) When my friends come they’ll probably ask for me. I’m Robin. Or Phoenix, people know me by that name, too.

I remembered the FA had said that there might be some strippers attending the party. I wanted to make a joke about wanting my own second name but after realizing that I was talking to a real live stripper my mind went absolutely blank (a real live stripper folks!). Sure enough, when her friend arrived she too was of the dancing profession. Yeah baby, things were looking up!

And then it started to rain. Then it got really cold. I was secretly cursing the FA for not informing me that there wasn’t any smoking allowed inside till the day of the party. Had I known that earlier I probably wouldn’t have gone but here it was the day of and the guy expected me to help him out. The rain was fairly constant but not overly heavy, just bad enough that people didn’t want to stand outside and smoke. The women would stand in the doorway with the door open and smoke. This worked fairly well except for the fact that the music was really loud and we wanted to keep it quiet outside. The guys seemed to be able to tough it out better than the women (surprising).

With people constantly going out for smokes I had to make sure that nobody went outside with a beverage. After the first couple people made their way out I went and grabbed a table for people to put their drinks on. This seemed to work out ok. There were three different colored cups so it wasn’t that hard to determine which drink was whose. I started making a little game out of it for myself. I tried to remember which cup belonged to whom and when they came back in from outside with a blank face, obviously not remembering which one was theirs, I’d help them out to which they were very thankful. I didn’t get any blowjobs or anything for my effort was I did get a butt squeeze by none other than WoFA’s cousin. She even playfully poked at my stomach (thank GOD I was both sucking it in and flexing!).

(Seriously, Kat, you looked good on Friday. When are we going to do that dinner/drinks/sex thing that we both know is inevitable?)

Later in the evening it started to get lively. The stripper pole got lots of use. The strippers were showing off their moves (while clothed) to the delight of the crowd. Two of them even did one of their little routines where they both spun around the pole at the same time. I got to see a lot of ass throughout the night. I was standing by the door talking to one of the FA’s friends when I noticed somebody was down to their bra and panties. There was so much smoke in the room from the fog machine that it was hard to tell who it was. I nudged Teeg and pointed out the half naked person when it hit me who it was: WoFA. We looked at each other. “Should we feel bad for checking out his wife?” We got closer for a better view.

(Oh, and Teeg, thank you and your group for getting me beer while I stayed by the door. I know you got me two and your wife’s friend got me two – greatly appreciated!)

The party started to wind down around 12:30 a.m. with people leaving at a slow pace. I got to leave the door position and mingle with people a bit more. I had some catching up to do in the beer department and took full advantage of the keg. At some point the first keg had gone dry and they had a new one that didn’t produce so much foam. I don’t think I strayed more than ten feet away from the barrel. I talked with my old mortgage guy Hairy (Mr. Sweater Vest himself!) about his new line of business, the stock market and basic investment strategies. I have to make it over to his bar & grill one of these days. He’s got a new line of chicken wings (12 flavors!) that more than a couple people spoke very highly off.

(There you go, Hairy, free advertising on this insanely popular internet blog! I’ll take payment in free beer! Oh, and I just linked the yellowpages.com site. If you have an actual website feel free to send it to me. I couldn't find it.)

I could tell the party was really starting to slow down and went into Competitive Drinker mode. I was within arms reach of the keg for the last half hour of the party. I don’t know what’s worse, being drunk and not able to leave when “it’s time” or not having enough to drink when your ride says it’s time. I was going to make sure it wasn’t the latter. Around 2:00 my friends were ready. I didn’t know it but apparently I was ready, too. I chugged my last beer, said my goodbyes, turned around and walked straight into the stripper pole. No, I didn’t do that, but I might have. That’s about where my evening ended as far as the memories go.

The WoFA’s friend drove us home. The FA had this grand master plan that the friend would sleep over at his house instead of drive all the way to her place. And then, in the middle of the night, I would seduce her to the point where she would put out (or pass out, in which case she’d still put out!). But like I said, I didn’t get to talk with her too much at the party since I was both standing by the door and directly in front of a speaker. I didn’t have the opportunity to dip into my magic bag of tricks and seduction (in other words, lies). She was absolutely smoking, too, dressed up like a cop with a skirt that barely covered her ass and a plunging neckline button down cop shirt. Smoking hot.

I woke up Saturday morning to cartoons. PBR was in the living room playing. The FA was walking around in his boxers (dude!). The arm that I was sleeping on hurt from the snug arms on the referee shirt. The FA played this clip on his phone that was supposedly me snoring. I don’t snore so I have no idea what he was talking about. I had a raging headache and a severe need to eat. I went outside for a cigarette and got the keys out of the Jeep in less than three minutes without damaging the top. I drove home around noon and headed directly to the bar for some food and beer. I figured a pitcher or two would take care of the headache but I was wrong about that. After a three hour nap I was still in pain. I still had the headache after four pitchers. I sent the FA a text and he too was hurting. I don’t know if it was just cheap beer or if someone drugged my beer in order to get at my trouser snake or what. Come to think of it, my butt was a little sore in the morning and the FA sure seemed to be in a good mood. Hmmmm…