It’s difficult to stray from falling in love with Vickie.
Both her and Greg put on a phenomenal white elephant Bash, one that fruitfully balanced the highs with lows and delivered a sucker punch to all those questioning their greatness.
The impressive spread in the kitchen induced a frothing drool from all those within eyesight, including myself, who ended up grossly gorging on whatever happened to find its way in front me, and I didn’t discriminate chestnuts from gingerbread. Vickie was also nice enough to send me off with a yummy to-go bag of fattening goodies.
The Bash started off well and good, anticipation running high as to what significant gifts were placed under the tree. The first high in demand item was the $25 Starbucks gift card, which reached it’s steal limit rather early. I drew #25, so stealing that wasn’t an option. I graciously waited my turn, and then I swiftly stole the classy fondue set, much to the horror of an unassuming girl I’d never met before.
She ended up with a chinsy Hawaiian ash tray that was obviously picked out of a thrift store “must go” bin. Nobody was lining up to steal.
My great choice of gift was backed up by becoming one of the few most thirsted over. In white elephant bashes, before choosing a gift you have the option of stealing another’s present, and mine gleefully reached the limit.
Greg was the first to see the value in the book and CDs, ended up being the first to smoothly steal before others followed suit.
People couldn’t resist piecing through the tome with engrossed eyes tracing over the details of sexual perspectives from DJs, cowboys and sex store workers.
Raj’s shoebox of porn was another treasured item, demand elevated and worthy of hilariously unified, intermittent chants of “box of porn!” It reached the steal limit as well.
We both exceeded expectation in bringing gifts everyone wanted, the ultimate goal in white elephant, and it seems we both mastered the art gloriously. Raj was ultimately bitter at his prize, one that nobody wanted to snag, a talking teddy bear bride.
He scored a couple digits as a consolation prize, a mood improver if I’ve ever seen one. On my end, a few phone numbers were achieved in the spirit of the holidays, made sinfully easier with the holy guidance of Miller High Life.
In my currently preposterous hungover state, I might experiment with the posh fondue set I acquired. I was pleased nobody stole it from me, so I got tremendously hammered because less is never expected from a Basher, with the fumes of my morning breath attesting to damage done correctly. Vickie’s egg nog crippled me righteous, a feat surely envied by The Hat.
Both her and Greg put on a phenomenal white elephant Bash, one that fruitfully balanced the highs with lows and delivered a sucker punch to all those questioning their greatness.
The impressive spread in the kitchen induced a frothing drool from all those within eyesight, including myself, who ended up grossly gorging on whatever happened to find its way in front me, and I didn’t discriminate chestnuts from gingerbread. Vickie was also nice enough to send me off with a yummy to-go bag of fattening goodies.
The Bash started off well and good, anticipation running high as to what significant gifts were placed under the tree. The first high in demand item was the $25 Starbucks gift card, which reached it’s steal limit rather early. I drew #25, so stealing that wasn’t an option. I graciously waited my turn, and then I swiftly stole the classy fondue set, much to the horror of an unassuming girl I’d never met before.
She ended up with a chinsy Hawaiian ash tray that was obviously picked out of a thrift store “must go” bin. Nobody was lining up to steal.
My great choice of gift was backed up by becoming one of the few most thirsted over. In white elephant bashes, before choosing a gift you have the option of stealing another’s present, and mine gleefully reached the limit.
Greg was the first to see the value in the book and CDs, ended up being the first to smoothly steal before others followed suit.
People couldn’t resist piecing through the tome with engrossed eyes tracing over the details of sexual perspectives from DJs, cowboys and sex store workers.
Raj’s shoebox of porn was another treasured item, demand elevated and worthy of hilariously unified, intermittent chants of “box of porn!” It reached the steal limit as well.
We both exceeded expectation in bringing gifts everyone wanted, the ultimate goal in white elephant, and it seems we both mastered the art gloriously. Raj was ultimately bitter at his prize, one that nobody wanted to snag, a talking teddy bear bride.
He scored a couple digits as a consolation prize, a mood improver if I’ve ever seen one. On my end, a few phone numbers were achieved in the spirit of the holidays, made sinfully easier with the holy guidance of Miller High Life.
In my currently preposterous hungover state, I might experiment with the posh fondue set I acquired. I was pleased nobody stole it from me, so I got tremendously hammered because less is never expected from a Basher, with the fumes of my morning breath attesting to damage done correctly. Vickie’s egg nog crippled me righteous, a feat surely envied by The Hat.
1 comment:
I want that book!
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