Posts Tagged ‘Crabtacular’

Crabtacular VI: ¡Hola Crabby!

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and…


Yes, it is that time of year again. Where many a poor crab makes a sacrifice for the good of mankind. We aren’t talking a crab or two. I’m talking barrels of crab. Enough to feed 200 people amounts of crab. Despite the crab shortage, this year didn’t disappoint. Thanks to Crabtacular, I’m actually beginning to enjoy crab. I even ate some this year. I was lucky enough to score one crab cake that was made. These were rare, as most people were just eating the crabs au natural.

To compliment the crab, there was tequila. I had a chance to hang with my favorite tequila maker, Guillermo Sauza, who brought a bar stocked with his fine selection of Los Abuelos tequilas. We started the tasting with the Blanco, moved on to the Resposado, and finished strong with the Añejo. Some day, I’ll make the trek down to his place in Mexico.

Besides crab and tequila, the other winner of the night was lemon. Late in the evening, when Crazy Aussie was explaining to me the symbiotic relationship between The Count and Cookie Monster, and after I questioned if he was calling them gay, a gigantic lemon appeared on the table. Said lemon was then thrown about the atrium, while I cracked another and anointed people with lemon juice. A gigantic, empty box of Goldfish was cut in half by Performance Art Man. Crazy Aussie inserted the humongous lemon into the Goldfish boat. The lemon was topped with whipped cream and I pierced it with a rose. And then it all got out of hand. The whipped cream was licked off and replaced. Chip dip was dumped on it. And the lemon was pierced by other kitchen utensils. As soon as I figure out how to contact Performance Art Man, I’ll get some pictures because otherwise it didn’t happen.

Six hours later, I managed to get home by 9:30pm. I have to say, I kind of like these parties that start at 1pm. I had a fabulous night chatting with old friends and new. Too numerous to mention everyone here, but I have to give one shout out to the Delicious Librarian Twins. By the way, why didn’t I get the memo that the dress code for this thing was a black top and jeans. I couldn’t have done it anyways because I haven’t done laundry in two weeks, so I had to wear a skirt, but that is a story for tomorrow…

All this and I’ll be asleep by midnight. I win!

Crabtacular V

Bbum & Chrispy had their Fifth Annual Crabtacular on Saturday night. I’d be remiss if I didn’t write a little bit about it.

Today someone mentioned to me in passing that I had “made the cut,” meaning a photo of me is on Flickr under the Crabtacular 5 tag. Truthfully, I don’t remember anyone even taking a photo, so I was surprised to find this one in Ashponder’s set.

The funniest conversation of the night

Who are these people, because I want to be their friend.

So here is the story as best I remember it. It isn’t that the memories are fuzzy, more that there were about nine hours of party. I arrived around 3:30 pm with all intention of leaving by 7 pm for a house concert in the city. I had a great conversation with a guy from my floor at work who’s window looks out over the atrium. He said he feels like he’s in a fish tank because people walking across the bridge can see right into his office and it just feels weird. I think that was his way of telling me to stop peeking in his windows.

Baby S came by and gave me a hug that lasted way too long to be comfortable while telling me over and over again how hot I looked. I told her I might have to call HR on her ass, even if I did like it. She says she is still my boyfriend.

Julio of Tommy’s Mexican Restaurant was there and margaritas were made. I can never pass up a margarita from Julio, so I started to sip one. Slowly. I still wanted to go to the concert. But it was raining. And I was wavering.

Then Office Neighbor A said the good tequila was being opened in the garage. Yeah, cause that is where I always open the good stuff. So, I squeezed in there, found a place to perch myself for a while, stole his shot glass from him, and started sipping the Los Abuelos Blanco poured from the bottle that Guillermo Sauza himself had signed just minutes before. He was the guy in the suit standing about five feet away and looking a little out of place in the garage.

This was when things started going downhill. Like they weren’t already headed there without my help.

M–anator and Willie were fake punching each other. In my endless effort to fight dirty, I told M–anator to kick him in the balls. Willie took offense at this and decided I needed to be kicked out. He turned his back on me and so I grabbed his ass. Well, when I did, Google Boy grabbed him in the balls. This began the ball grabbing episode and learning about the game of gay chicken. A couple unsuspecting victims also had their balls grabbed or grazed in this incident. And Sauza came over to see what kind of trouble I was causing. I explained I wasn’t the one grabbing balls, so he might not want in on the action.

I didn’t know at the time, but Google Boy is Greg Stein and is the guy in the photo with me. Sorry dude, but the rule is if you’ve got your own wikipedia page, I’m more than happy to out you. Some day when I have my own page you all will get to know who I am. Back to the story…

I had told Willie the only way he was going to kick me out of the party was if he carried me out. He was too wussy to do it himself, so when bbum entered the garage, Willie tried to enlist help. Well, I wasn’t having any of that, so I said, “Who do you really want to stay? Willie, or me?” Only when I said it, I moved my scarf out of the way and showed a little more cleavage. Just cleavage, mind you, but next thing I know, bbum, Willie, and Google Boy are all showing their titties in hopes that I’ll play along. You people still haven’t figured out that I’m just an instigator. A catalyst. The man behind the curtain. But I digress.

Also in the garage was Red. Someone was sending her out on a packy run, so I suggested she collect money. This of course turned dirty as everything I say seems to do. Her husband gave me the five dollar bill to give her. I think she said later that she’d forgotten to take the money out and someone in the store mentioned it.

I finally wandered back out of the garage. At some point in the night I ran into Fireman Kid who really liked my boots. I liked his. I asked if we could trade. He didn’t say anything, so I took that as a no.

Willie found me again as I tried to enter the kitchen. My Manager looked strangely at me as Willie pushed me out of the kitchen and closed the door. I stood on the other side somewhat dumbfounded. This was when the kids found me and made me block the passageway between the piano and the door so that they had to crawl around me to get through. A few minutes later, while I was still trying to decide what to do about getting kicked out of the kitchen, an unsuspecting woman was there to witness bbum’s son running up to me and yelling, “Spread your legs!” I had to explain to her what had happened just minutes ago to prompt this exclamation.

I landed in the living room long enough to make fun of three people sitting on the couch using their phones. As I was leaving, My Manager said that I should introduce myself to the poor people I just ridiculed. So, introductions were made and I realized that one of them is one of our favorite developers. So I explained to Mike Lee of Delicious Monster, his wife, and friend that My Manager was hoping to watch me put my foot in my mouth, as I am so good at doing. To make it even better, I proceeded to tell Mike that I’m not a big fan of his boss. I also remembered later that I’d met him once before.

Off to the bathroom, about five hours into the party. Oh, I forgot to mention that at one point in the garage, I found another person who was going to the house concert in the city and asked if I could ride with him as long as I promised not to hit on his girlfriend. I do like to say things to make people wonder. He said sure, and that was when I drank the shot. But then he came back later and said that they weren’t going. So much for going to the concert. I was kind of bummed because it was Mike Schmid and I’ve really been enjoying his CD.

So, I was being a dork and sitting outside the bathroom writing an email on my iPhone. A couple guys were collecting. One of them, his wife called and so I talk to her for a minute. Then my phone rang and it was House Concert Host. He didn’t say anything, and then I realized he was letting me listen to the concert. So I shut myself into the den and laid on the futon listening to the music I was missing. The quality wasn’t particularly good, but it gave me a half hour to wonder how my life got so twisted. It was sobering. I was sobbing. Okay, I wasn’t, but that sounded like a good next line.

Back out in the party, I ended up in the garage dancing to the music and playing yahtzee until Christmas songs started playing. That got a little too weird, so the evening tapered off in front of the tv making fun of bbum’s music collection (and learning who had made the Christmas music happen), then a round of leftovers, two glasses of water and a lot of time later, I finally drove home, only to have the “Check Engine” light come on about a mile down the road.

But that is another story.