Darlin' it's better down where it's wetter

Welp, it's that time of year again. The company holiday party was Friday night, so I dug out the suit and a fancy tie and joined in the milling about with a napkin of food in one hand and a weak drink in the other.

This year's shindig, like last year's, was only a few blocks from my apartment, which I always appreciate when it's time to stumble home. But unlike last year, I did not throw a pre-party get-together since my apartment's a mess and I've been knocked out the past two weeks by the plague that everyone seems to have (cough, wheeze). I'm feeling somewhat better, though, thanks for asking.

Anyway, this year's party was at the aquarium down at Pier 39 on Fisherman's Wharf, which was pretty interesting. It pales in comparison to Monterey's aquarium (obviously), but was a fun place to hold a party, what with the drinking while sharks swim overhead, the dessert tray nearly falling into the ray petting tank, and such. I'll admit it was a little weird, however, to be staring at the crustacean tank while chowing down on crabcakes.

Also, the rainy season has kicked into high gear, so despite the ginormous umbrella, by the time we finally found the proper entrance, we basically looked as though we'd been in one of the exhibits.

The thing is, this was my 9th office holiday party. Ok, actually I missed 3 in there for various reasons, so it was really only the 6th that I attended, but still. The last 3 years I've had a suicide pact of sorts with a coworker who has been along the entire ride with me, where we both committed to not being around come the next party, or else. This year he finally ditched the party, if not the company, so I'm still alive. But I'm telling y'all this right now - if this time next year I even have the option of attending the same company's soirée, kill me. Just shoot me in the head, dead.