Holiday Whirl a Go Go

My holiday party merry go 'round is in full rotation. I kicked off December at a friend of a friend's company party, at which there was an open bar. Kids, you know what that spells for me: amorous flirtations & disaster. The amorous flirtations were harmless fun but I'm very much certain that quite a few bored married men went straight home and tried to convince their wives that swinging would be just the thing to spice up their bedroom life. As for disaster...luckily, no bones were broken (this time) in my tragic drunk walking accident after the party. Yep, I tripped over a cement parking bumper curb thingy. I landed on my elbow and have a nice huge scab that will require 6 months of vitamin E treatment to lessen scarring. I'm just happy no emergency rooms were involved.

Last weekend was the Maines-Marley Holiday Open House. Suffice it to say that we danced (some of us on table tops) to 80's music and drank enough booze and beer to rival a frat pledge hazing night. There were party attendees in their underwear, a very lovely "present" who looked ravishing as usual and Rocky Horror showed off his dance moves. The Miller-Reinhardt family made an appearance early on but left before the debauchery ensued so that my nephews could get to bed at a decent hour. We feasted on an array of my hors d' oeuvres and a full holiday meal whipped up by Darren. Ahhh, friends, food and festivity!

Tuesday was Oil Can Harry's staff Christmas party. Two words: open bar. This time, mindful of my healing elbow, I restrained myself and practiced safe drinking habits. Hydration in the form of water was promoted and shots were discouraged. The bar staff from Rain were nice enough to come over and fill in so all the Can employees could enjoy the night. OCH staff will return the favor when Rain has their party. Of course it was odd to be handed a drink by a bartender in a competitor bar's t-shirt, but the Can staff will wear their OCH shirts at Rain and call it even steven (and Josh, Blake, Andy and David). The gift exchange was entertaining, with most gifts appreciated but a few gags here and there. There's nothing like a Christmas piñata given to you with love...or at least with tongue firmly in cheek. And at the Can, it's usually your tongue in someone else's cheek.

Just when I thought I could get some much needed sleep, the next evening rolls around with not one but two events. I made a very, very brief appearance at the Austin Fit White Elephant party, mostly to drop off my gift in an effort to make velvet art a tradition in the annual exchange. I did manage to steal a bite or two of Chel's fish tacos and fetch her a Tito's vodka press before traipsing off to OCH for the second night in a row. The AF party was at Union Park, which took over the old Rocco's Grill on 6th St. next to Katz's (never Kloses), which took over Ninfa's, which took over...hmmm, don't remember what was there before Ninfa's. UP is a great bar and I highly recommend checking it out, even if they did run out of Tito's, a cardinal sin in my world.

At the Can, the Christmas Affair was just getting started. I wasn't ditching AF just for a customer appreciation party, I worked. Yes, that hot goddess in the red blouse carving up oh so delicate slices of roast beef and making miniature croissant sandwiches was me. I served up meatballs, kept the cheese plates attractively full, explained to every one with a perplexed look that yes, it was a ginormous pâté. And I solemnly promise I washed my hands before I touched your buns and balls.

The soiree was a successful fundraiser for Glenn Eaddy's annual toy drive for Project Transitions. The price of admission was one unwrapped toy that will be given to a child with HIV or affected by the disease. One lucky boy and girl will be thrilled to received the brand spankin' new bicycles and helmets, that's a certainty.

Just when the party was winding down and after the bar staff gathered on the dance floor to host the Christmas carol singalong , Chel and Frank showed up. They entertained me with tales of the AF gift exchange, in which the least desireable gift was a second hand dvd of Brokeback Mountain. (Apparently you can catch Gay just by touching the dvd). We hung out for a while and joked around with Sloppy Joe at the side bar. Margie has decided to replace me as her Chief Babe with Chel, who outranks me in chestiness. I didn't realize Mama was such a size queen, but hey, Chel has a great rack and mine...well, suffice it to say that I saw more men last night with bigger bitch tits than my small chi chis. And that's not counting the ones in drag.

Tonight I have dinner with the parents at their favorite restaurant, Cherry Creek Catfish Company. We're celebrating Mom's birthday and their anniversary, which was yesterday. Fun times and fried foods, what more can you ask for?

Friday night is my company Christmas party. Yes, open bar. I'm sure I'll have a memorable time to blog about, providing I can actually remember it. Saturday is a marathon of activity. I have a 2pm performance of The Nutcracker in which my stepdaughter M has the role of an angel. In Austin, like in many cities, it's a holiday tradition to hold performances of The Nutcracker. Ballet Austin makes our annual production unique by inviting movers and shakers of the community to play the role of Mother Ginger. This year's Mother Ginger will be our mayor, a local radio celebrity, a tv news anchor and more Austin personalities, a different person at each performance.

After the ballet I'll hightail it over to the Miller-Reinhardt Friends & Family Christmas Celebration and feast with the fam. We have our gift exchange, too. Ummm....still need to buy that present. From there I'll rock on up to North Austin to a graduation celebration for Danny's niece, Jennifer. She is an edooocated college grad, as of tomorrow. After Jennifer's shindig, I'll head South...not quite to my casa but instead to the Copa on Congress for my roomie's company holiday party. Thank God for taxi's, right? If I'm not under the influence I'll simply be too exhausted to drive. I'm tired just typing the itinerary.

And Sunday, you ask? Sunday, I sleep.

Ho, ho, ho.