Gadget Boy’s WEGE Christmas party. Haven’t been to a WEGE party in a while. Mostly because I associate them with gross gifts like reindeer poo cocktail swizzle sticks, etc. However, after witnessing Superman and Improv-er’s amicable sharing of Shakespeare’s bust (a Christmas-past, hotly contested WEG), I decided it was time to try again.
I arrived a little late. Not as late as I could have arrived, since Perky and I were going to carpool, but she was running very late, and I came ahead of her. But still. Arriving a little (but not too) late made me realize why people arrive late to parties … too little buzz to accommodate inane conversation, and too little in the way of people to size up. I ended up talking to Feminist A for a while, comparing notes on the scenes in the Santa Monica and LA stakes. And just when I thought I’d just have to pack it in a leave, because I am NOT a good-stand-around-small-talker, there were suddenly enough people to start the gift exchange.
Santa showed up, looking suspiciously like Improv-er and with the concomitant cookie request, so we all trouped up in turn to tell what it was we wanted for Christmas, and choose or take a gift.
Me? Well, I want to win every game of Catan I play in 2007. But if I can’t have that, I guess I’d be willing to settle for a kayak. Not that I have a car in which to move it from apartment to beach, or a wetsuit to use with it in the winter months. But I think a kayak would be ever so much fun.
As for my many WEG’s? First I stole a set of the most recent Spiderman dvd’s. When that was stolen from me, I stole someone else’s motorcycle model. I considered this a favor to the girl who had it at the time, since she ended up choosing a mechanical caged bird instead.
At one point, I had in my possession a lost dream that has haunted me since the 4th grade … a powder blue Member’s Only jacket. Honestly, I opened the gift with no idea what was inside … no stealing. Anyway, since my parents were the cruel kind who always had money for piano lessons and camping trips, but none for the MO jackets, madras short and polo shirts that ruled at my elementary school, I’d always felt deprived. It was a dream come true to see the signature collar unfold from the packaging. I draped my prize over my shoulders and felt like a school yard princess … until someone stole it from me, and it was then stolen again, making the third owner immune from further theft. I then perchanced to obtain a genuine glaring green 7-11 polo shirt (along with a Napolean Dynamite t-shirt and a Bob Dylan shirt), but that too was taken from me. In the end, I took home a bag of seven cd’s, with such diverse selections as the Dandy Warhols, the Beach Boys, MoTab and Space Ghost. Other hot items of the evening included a bag of goldfish, toy car race track, white Stetson with salsa and picante sauce, a duck light (glass duck which lit up!), a Deep Space Nine framed and pin-point lighted poster, and an Apocalypto cd with a free admission to Disneyland.
To add to all the excitement, there was also kissing. Santa had in his pocket cards anonymously designated for each boy and girl. Pairs were called out and invited to kiss for the camera. Now, let’s be honest, the kissing wasn’t all that exciting (except for SB, BP and DT, which was more like doggie kissing than human kissing). All the guys tried hard to be pumped up and aggressive (whether they wanted to or not), and all the girls tried hard to be demure and dainty (whether they wanted to or not). But it was diverting, and one of those things that only Gadget Boy could pull off.
I left the festivities around 2300. Really, there is only so much Big Party I can take in one night. Was saying goodbye to FGITW, when I noticed a tall guy wearing the ever so uniquely ubiquitous mistletoed head apparatus. I asked if it had worked well for him. He said, “Well, let’s see.” At which point he moved in. And I inadvertently ducked. Maybe I’m just used to giving cheek kisses like in Italy, Argentina or Peru. Maybe I’m not used to tall guys like him moving in for a smooch (the sky seemed to go dark). Or maybe it was my aversion to casual kissing (although this decreases proportionate to how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed). I’m not sure. Whatever the reason, I inadvertently ducked. And he noticed and laughingly commented. At which point I laughed at myself, offered my cheek, got my kiss, and left.
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