At the Hop

We have a grand tradition of sending people off in style at the Lobster.

Last night, the few, the proud, the shameless all gathered at a local watering hole for some karaoke in honor of the impending departure of Manager Bob. The one manager we can all stand for longer than 5 minutes. He's heading off to sunnier shores (Jacksonville, Fla.) with the wife and kiddo in about two weeks.

So we did what we do best. We went out and drank. And sang.

The Hop is a truly stereotypical South Central Pennsyltucky bar. It's got a big old 50s style Chevrolet on the roof. The bar is plastered with old 45s (those are records in case you're too young to remember them) and murals of people in beach scenes right out of a Franky and Annette movie. Classy, the place ain't. But boy was it fun.

After one seabreeze and three beers I did my own rendition of Fiona Apple's "Criminal". My wonderful coworkers gave me a rousing standing ovation at the end. I'm not sure if anyone else enjoyed but eh, who cares. Manager Bob sang quite a few tunes from country to the classic "Brandy". Pictures were taken at the end of the whole group and after good byes were given, room mate #2 , his girlfriend and I made for home.

This morning was rough. A nice little hangover was kicking my butt when I woke up at 11 a.m. While I didn't have to be at work until Noon (what a revelation!) I still hadn't gone to be until close to 3:30ish. I made sure room mate #2 was o.k. before I took to my own bed. The girlfriend had fallen asleep on the couch and he was in the bathroom being sick. Or making the Hulk appear, as he calls it. Silly bastard was up at 10:30 this morning to help Friend James with his car.

Now, I'm pretty much in the office alone. This place clears out so fast at 5 p.m. I often wonder if someone yelled "BOMB!" and I just didn't hear it. About another hour or so then I'm out of here. I have plans to go to the gym for at least some eliptical time. Because, as it usually does, a session of hockey is enough to make me realize how totally out of shape I am.

Well, that and the fact that my fat jeans were a little snug.