My Bocce Introduction

Of the many things I am learning as a new employee at the Washingtonian (and believe me, I'm made the fool at least twice a day), something that never ceases to amaze me is the general happiness everyone takes in working there. Just being part of the magazine staff is something people are genuinely happy about, as opposed to it "just being a source of a paycheck."

The owner of the magazine had us out to her house outside Annapolis last weekend for a company picnic. First, the house was bitchin. Built on a peninsula with the Severn River on one side and some other equally lovely body of water on the other, the physical land alone was stunning.

Second, I played bocce for the first time. And as you can see by my form, I was a quick study. The orbs you play with are way heavier than I ever thought, and I was convinced I'd either break my foot dropping it or kill a small woodland creature if it got in the path of it once I hurled it. Nevertheless, my team lost but it was a close game. I'm already scouting bocce sets to buy for the house because I have a feeling this is something I'll want to play again (but don't worry, cornhole, I won't quit you).

When PR Companies Go Crazy

Video games companies send me all sorts of stuff to help promote their products, and I enjoy it. Sometimes it's cool stuff like a well-designed T-shirt or some funky toy that I'll keep on my desk. Most of the time, it's stuff that I think is neat but I have no use for, like a Mario Bros. backpack clearly designed for a kid. This is where my coworkers benefit greatly from me being the nice guy that I am. Because I always take the schwag and dole it out to the parents in the office whose kids would probably love some free toys and crap that a guy in his 30s has no need of.

This week I got a huge wooden crate (at right) delivered to my office. I was a tad perplexed, but not shocked. Some of my favorite gifts ever from PR companies have come in bizarre containers. I have a viking hat, I once got a metal-forged spartan battle helmet, a wooden sword, all sorts of fun stuff.

I was unsure what the box contained until Kristin helped me bust the thing open. The box clearly says it contains small items, but who knows what kind of tricks they were playing. At first I reached in and pulled out a small stuffed animal.

And then another.

And another.

And ... well, you get the picture. It was a lot.

In the end, half the box was empty, and the other half had a video game and 11, yes ELEVEN, stuffed animals that were all in various shapes but were round and silly looking. The game is called Squeeballs Party, and I have no idea how good it will be, but the name is goofy enough and the stuffed animals are all comical looking. Now, other than being one of those stupid women who stuff their car with beanie babies, I really had no use for 11 oddly designed stuffed animals. Kristin and I did enjoy chucking them at Laura, but we needed a better plan. And then it hit me ... we'll just coyly "decorate" our friend Leigh's office with them. So we hid them in desk drawers, under hats, behind office plants, anywhere we could put them to surprise her when she got back from a trip. And it worked. She naturally knew I was behind the squeeballs attack since no one else gets bizarre stuff like this in the office, but it worked and gave her a good giggle, which made it worth it for sure. And at least she didn't react like this guy below did, who may need to switch to decaf.

FARTing Around DC

Saturday was a day of tough decisions for me. I had the chance to participate in two worthwhile opportunities, and I had a hard time choosing. For weeks I had seen the posters for the Walk for the Homeless. I had plans on participating, but a late-night session of Gears of War 2 with the clan made rising for the 9 a.m. start time a little too daunting a task.

Luckily, I had a fallback, which was proposed to me by my good friend Kristin. Her friend is on the board of FART, a nonprofit comprised of friends who were tired of the intramural leagues here in DC. I know what they mean, because after a few seasons of intramural soccer and flag football, those leagues were nothing but college grads and men in their 30s trying to beat the shit out of each other. The fun was 100% removed, and it was all about winning and if you could do it degrading your opponent, all the better. Hey folks, you're not earning a paycheck on that field, and you're not getting any chicks breaking another person's leg, either, so quit with the uber-macho shite.

Anyway, back to FART. Or, Faux Athletic Recreational Tournaments. The point is to have fun on weekends and also benefit a worthy cause. The event I did was a DC Hide and Seek. They've done bizarro things like Connect Four tournaments and stuff like that, but this was their first big-scale event.

My team, the Nickels (don't ask), were given a printout of clues to the location of FART members hiding around DC. We followed the clues and found our hidden folk hiding in all sorts of places (Hirschorn Museum, an ice rink, a cafe in Dupont Circle, outside a Best Buy in Columbia Heights and many more).

In the end, the Nichels prevailed, coming in first place. I expected nothing less, since Kristin and I attacked the contest with a fervor worthy of Terry Tate. Our team had the fewest members (four) but we would not be denied. Kristin, Maggie (both pictured), myself and a certain person who is dead to us because he went Benedict Arnold on us during the awards ceremony, we all stepped up and kicked some Hide and Seek ass. In addition, FART collected enough entry fees and donated coats to clothe 8 people and feed 24 for the holidays, so we had fun and helped out some people, which was great.

Not sure what FART has in store for the future, but I hope they continue to push the activities. There are some angry people here that could use some light-hearted fun that benefits someone other than themselves.