Librarians never forget. Or maybe that's elephants.

Today we're hosting everyone's favorite librarian, Michele from It's a Dog's Life. I thought I'd post this on a Sunday, because nothing says 'wholesome Sunday' like librarians, tequila, and table dancing...

Keely was looking for people to guest blog while she went on vacation. By asking me and several others to provide content for her blog she really must need that vacation; BAD! I mean really, with the crazy emails going back and forth between all of us she really had to have been at her last resort to contemplate using any of us. Silly, silly girl! *shakes head slowly*

Somehow it transpired that the theme of this party was going to be clothing optional. I’m pretty much sure this idea started with Captain Dumbass, but don’t me quote in on it. I’m totally disavowing any knowledge of the whole thing. I’m so much older than the rest of the group I’ve decided that I’m going to claim dignity because of age. The rest of you can bite me.

So firing myself up with that plucky Pinot Noir that I have been laying down for a special occasion (Hey, this is special. It’s the first time I’ve been asked to guest blog. It qualifies). I girded my loins (no easy task) to write about a rather interesting, typical embarrassing moment in my budding career as mail order phone representative for Recreational Equipment Incorporated (REI). Read it and weep.

In 1990 I worked as a mail order operator for REI. We took orders from recreational enthusiasts from all over the world. In the fast paced high stress world of recreational equipment the mail order division of REI was world class. Our sales figures were astronomical. I like to think that my contribution was undisputable (I think that this is a pretty safe statement since it was like a hundred years ago).

Our sales were so high the upper level never to be seen or heard from management decided to give us a party. A party that would be held on a large boat that cruised around Lake Washington, Lake Union and the Ship Canal area of Seattle. A party that happened to fall on my 31st birthday. You can see the problem in this.

We had the party. We had a really good time. We drank too much. I drank way too much. My friends at REI thought it would be fun to toast my birthday way too much. I drank way too much. Have I said that? Yes? Well, it bears repeating. My friends decided to dance too much. I danced too much. Then I drank too much. Do you see the theme here?

As the night went on I drank, danced, and partied too much. JR got my back on this one. He’s good at that and it’s a damn good thing because obviously I have no sense of decorum. And tequila and I don’t play well together.

When the boat docked JR and I made our way home from the party. Don’t ask me how. JR probably remembers. Or maybe not, we’re old. Memory is the first to go, don’t you know. We did make it, poured ourselves into bed then suffered a 2 day hangover. Try that with 2 small children at home. I defy anyone to tell me something worse. That’s not a challenge people!

While I was busy recovering REI was buzzing about how the party went. I had no clue what stories were being bandied about but it seemed that I was featured prominently.

When I showed up for work I endured the usual light hearted bantering that co-workers give each other. Then Wally (the CEO of REI and EVERYONES boss) shows up. This is not typical. He would have had to make a special trip over from his rarified offices 10 miles south of our building. The brand new building with the climbing wall and fitness center.

Wally wanders his way through the computer work stations until he gets to me. I’m pretty much speechless (very rare). Our quick exchange went something like this:

Wally: Hi Michele

Me: Ahhhh Hi Wally

Wally: Hey, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

Me: Thanks

Wally: Did you ever find the shirt you stripped off and tossed into the lake on Saturday night?

Me: ………..crickets

The whole call center was cracking up with laughter. Seems it got around that I had stripped my shirt off and was dancing on the tables. I contend this is a pack of lies. JR would never have allowed me to do something like that. He is totally responsible for my clothing or lack thereof when I’ve been drinking tequila. He knows this.