December 17, 2004


Holiday office parties tend to either be deadly dull or Dionysian bonfires. Our office party this year was... nice. Which is to say dull. But still very nice.

But that didn't stop someone from trying to lighten the mood a little.

That someone would be Rommie.


He decided to see how many meatballs he could cram down his gullet.


He eyed the three crock pots full of balls, served himself a tasteful amount of them and then commenced to ingesting.

Again and again and again.

When all was done, he had slyly downed 35 of them in one sitting. We were unaware he was going after some sort of Chistmas party record until after the deed was done. He just slipped it into conversation that he had done so. Gotta admire that kind of discretion.

We feared for him, of course. That kind of gastronomic swan dive could either incur the disgust of one's significant female life partner or explosive diarrhea.

I'm happy to report it did neither.

In fact, he said in the middle of the feast that he was shocked more of us weren't going after the meaty little skittles.

"You act like we have meatballs here all the time,'' he said, aghast.

So some of us joined him. And we saw that he was right.

Here's to you, Rommie, for taking a ball for the team. Thirty five of them.

Posted by Jeff at December 17, 2004 08:16 AM | TrackBack