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ho ho ho|12.23.05

I got invited to a company Christmas party being held at Hush, a supposedly trendy nightclub conveniently located on the edge of suburbia next to a La-Z-Boy store that–can you believe it?–Ashton Kutcher’s been to. Ashton Kutcher! It’s gotta be hella cool. And you know, any excuse to put on my goin’ out shirt, pay way too much for watered down drinks, watch under-clothed overweight girls jiggle along to shitty music, hang out with people I don't know, and just feel generally out of place.

We had VIP passes. What does VIP entail, you ask? Exactly one very important table in the corner to put your very important shit on. Our table was right next to this dude getting his knob polished. He just sat there all nonchalant-like, as if there wasn’t some ho’s head in his lap, directly under the only source of light for twenty feet in either direction. I asked if that was part of the VIP treatment, but no, just the table.

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