Crashing a city hall holiday party should be rare and exciting—like stumbling upon a pack of wildebeests rutting in the wild—hair flying, fluids spilling, screams of mingling pleasure and pain echoing in your ears. It should be a gloriously messy affair with the implicit threat that if you wander too close, you stand the risk of being either gored or humped to death.
Sadly, that's never the case. Earlier this month, Seattle City Council members and their support staff held their annual holiday bash at the Garage, a bowling alley and pool hall. Instead of loosened ties and body shots, politicians celebrated with a hideous sweater contest and karaoke. City council communications director Laura Lockard won a cookie jar to match her sweater, which dripped with so many glittering tchotchkes that it eclipsed her entirely pleasant face. Sadly, there was no contest to see whose tie most closely resembled a hotel bedspread (it would've been a 10-way tie, anyway). Tim Burgess with his sober, penetrating stare managed, as always, to resemble Sam the Eagle from the Muppets.
I have no idea what we talked about. Council Member Sally Bagshaw was drinking a manhattan on the rocks out of a full pint glass. High five, Sally B. Offers to trade blowjobs for city secrets went unanswered, which is just as well—the offers were halfhearted, anyway. Next year for Christmas, all I want is to see city council members let down their hair and wave a few dicks around, if only for one night. All I want for Christmas is to see Tim Burgess drunk.
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