God, have I been way too lax in writing on this blog. Almost six months, and I've not written a single thing. I could blame in on moving to our new house, but then again, the last post was written three weeks after moving in. Unpacking? No. Trouble at work? Thankfully, no (my job, the one I've had since July 2008, is filled with tiny frustrations, but compared to my wife, I work at a circus-style funhouse). Too much time socializing? So sweet of you to think so, person who doesn't know me well or at all. No, that's not the reason. Why, it's good, old-fashioned laziness rearing its head apathetically with a half-hearted shrug.
Once again, as with last year, I'm going to try and make myself write something each day. And, hopefully, that something isn't going to just be another of my many links to articles I've written at Box Office Prophets (yep, still writing there, and enjoying it, as always). Today, I'm going to ring in the new year with a story of holiday parties past. Within the next few days, I'll add in some reviews of movies I'm seeing this weekend, or movies I've seen recently. I'll also do the list of my top movies of the past year, and so on and so on. I might even start a new marathon of movies I'll be going back into my mental archives to watch. Fingers crossed.
But first, as promised, a story of holiday parties for you now. I would almost hesitate to name names, but I'm not sure it'll be a major issue. At the very least, let me clarify that I won't be naming the company I work for. This is not because the story I'm about to tell is going to make this company look bad in any way. As I've said here and elsewhere, I like my job, I like the company I work for, and if I keep my head down, they may very well let me free of the chains I am shackled with day in and day out. I kid, of course.
So, the story. I work at a company based in Arizona that has had a corporate holiday party every year for quite a while. For the holiday season of 2008, my first at the company, I got to go to the corporate holiday party (not because I'm extra-awesome or anything--I am, but it's not important here--but because of my department's importance). The theme was "Hooray for Hollywood". Because when you think of the holidays, you think of Hollywood. Anyway, the party was being held at one of the more tony hotels in the metropolitan area, and extreme dress-up was the style. Once the wife and I arrived and parked (not valet, unlike most of the other drivers), we were greeted by a luxurious red carpet. The ballroom in which the dinner was being served was flanked by a ridiculously lengthy hallway and an opposite ballroom where there was a casino (again, holidays = gambling).
The dinner we were served was probably the best I'd had all year; filet mignon, creme brulee, and so on. The majority of the dinner part of the evening was very low-key, though. It was once dinner was over that the lights dimmed and we were directed to pay attention to the stage in the ballroom, where large TV screens on either side were showing a montage. The montage was full of clips from classic Hollywood movies. Movies like Casablanca, Citizen Kane, The Third Man, Gone With The Wind, Nine to Five, and Beaches. It was right around Nine to Five that my wife and I looked at each other with a look that equaled a no-missed-beat query of "What the fuck?"
Before we got to go any further with that line of questioning, out came the master of ceremonies, also known as the most boring comedian I'd seen to that point. I can't remember any of his jokes, but I know that he wasn't funny and was mostly a placeholder to introduce the real entertainment. First up, he said, was someone who didn't usually come to Phoenix, as she was most often hanging around her famed amusement park. "You know her from The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and Nine To Five...ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Miss Dolly Parton!"
Now here's the thing. The company that I work for is big enough and national enough that...well, honestly, if they had enough money to get Dolly Parton, and she did corporate events, I would believe it. It's also worth noting that this party began with the mayor of Phoenix wishing the company well, as well as the at-the-time lieutenant governor, who was only there because the current governor was too busy becoming the Secretary of Homeland Security. So it seems outlandish, but for about one second, I thought, "Holy shit, they got Dolly Parton?" Later on, I'd wonder what the hell Dolly had to do with the holidays, but come on, Dolly Parton?
As the woman wearing a blonde wig and likely a padded bra walked onstage uncomfortably in high heels, I fell back to earth. She sang a few songs unspectacularly, was followed by a hack magician, four guys impersonating the Temptations, and the final capper was Bette Midler, as played by Harvey Fierstein or a person of indeterminate gender, I'm not sure. The point to take from this holiday party was that the company had unique ways of providing us entertainment. The dinner was awesome, the accompaniment was...cheesy, at best.
And so we come to this year's party. The theme was "A Night in Emerald City". Because when you think of the holidays, you think of The Wizard of Oz. Of course, my first thought was that if someone didn't sing "Over the Rainbow" before the party was over, I'd want my proverbial money back. Once again, the party was going to be held at a crazy fancy hotel; not the same one, but one that was considered fancier. Once we got to the hotel, we found the ballroom set off by itself, unlike the year before. There wasn't as much of what amounted to a preshow, but the place was still quite swanky.
As I stood with the wife and some of my co-workers, waiting for the ballroom doors to open, I wondered if it was right for me to compare the two hotels, especially since they weren't related in any way. We sat down, ate another insanely awesome dinner (filet mignon, lobster bisque, and the best chocolate torte I've ever had), and waited for the evening's entertainment. Finally, an announcer over the PA system said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the front of the stage for our evening's entertainment." Out came two older women, employees who were the chief party organizers. They wished everyone a happy holiday season, thanked everyone for their hard work and for coming, and then said that we were all in for quite a treat, as we'd be seeing two extremely funny guys, men who define what it means to be comedians. Then, they introduced the CEOs of the company, who once again thanked everyone, wished us happy holidays, and promoted the main act of the evening as one of the funniest, warmest, and most caring individuals he'd had the privilege of meeting.
I realize, at this point, that this story is very long, and that I'm really building up to who the main act is. Let's get this straight: I'm not exaggerating on the description provided by the CEO, nor am I unaware that I'm setting you up for a major fucking disappointment. I'm aware. So, anyway, after this, the CEO at the mike introduces the opening act, who has the rare distinction of having been on both Saturday Night Live and MAD TV. Now, I was racing through my mind, trying to think of what person that could be. Before I could think of any solid guesses, out came Jeff Richards. Yes, I know what you're thinking to yourselves. "Who?"
Well, as it turns out, Jeff Richards was on both shows; he was on the former show for two and a half seasons, from 2001-2004, and on the latter show for 3 episodes in 2000. Hey, if it works, it works. Richards came out to some Caddyshack-style music, dancing and sweating like he was John Belushi right before he passed out for the last time. My wife thought he was doing a Chris Farley impression, but....well, Farley did Belushi's shtick while being sweeter. Anyway, Richards, after dancing, opened with a line that set the tone for his entire set, and set the tone for how it would be received: "So, I can say 'fuck', right?"
Yes, Jeff, you can curse. Now, granted, the reaction from part of the crowd was "Oooh", as if we were on the playground in elementary school. Apparently, there are still plenty of taboos for the folks at my company. Richards spent the next 15 minutes swearing up and down, and being generally rude for the sake of being rude. Now, I don't find that funny. I have no problem with profanity or with racy content. Last night, for example, I went to see Joel McHale at the Dodge Theatre; his opener was his Community co-star Donald Glover, who brought up the "n"-word, child molestation, and more in his 15 minutes. And it was great. What I dislike is a comedian who thinks that swearing is, in itself, funny.
It's not. Richards was mostly ignored by the crowd, as some up front laughed a bit, out of sheer politeness. He regaled us with a few impressions, including Dr. Phil and the drunk sorority girl he often did on SNL. Finally, he was ready to finish: "OK, folks, you've been a great crowd, thank you very much. Now, are you ready for the main event of the evening? Are you ready to laugh? I said, ARE YOU READY TO LAUGH? Ladies and gentlemen, give it up...for Mr. Rob Schneider!"
I must tell you here that I have, for the purpose of dramatic storytelling, left out a very important tidbit. As I was waiting with my wife and some co-workers to go into the ballroom, one of said employees came up to me and said, "Dude, I just saw Rob Schneider behind me!" I was skeptical, for obvious reasons, but the guy was serious. So everyone at our table wondered why in hell Deuce Bigelow would be here. He couldn't...no, he couldn't be the entertainment, right? Because when you think of the holidays and The Wizard of Oz, you think of Rob Schneider. Now, granted, I proposed that Schneider could very well come out dressed as a flying monkey or a munchkin. Alas, no luck. He came out, and though we were ironically thrilled at the prospect of Rob Schneider doing stand-up, only five minutes into his set did we realize the dark side of said prospect.
Schneider was...well, imagine how funny he'd be. That's how funny he was. Obviously, some people laughed, but I'm pretty sure they were all drunk. He could have read the alphabet and it would have killed with these people. The part that I disliked most, the part that made me angry was when he complained, for a good four or five minutes, about being recognized in public. Right, what a terrible fucking life it must be for a guy whose career amounts to hanging around Adam Sandler to be recognized by us average peons. Sorry, Rob. It got worse when, a few minutes later, he pulled out a sheet of paper and pretended it was a monologue for a Martin Scorsese movie he was soon auditioning for. After clearing his throat, he read it: "YOU CAN DO IT!!" So, it sucks being recognized, but he's real glad to invoke the quote that he is now most readily recognized for. Happy holidays, right?
So, that's my story. Funny? I didn't think so. Warm? Caring? I can't say, of course, not knowing the man. But....weird night. Hope you enjoyed the story, and that you'll stick around for the rest of the year, and that I'll stick around as well. This resolution I will keep. Happy New Year.
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