Mixing Work and Play

One event I really loved at my old firm was our annual firm retreat. I had some really great times at those retreats. Today marks the first day of the CIA's "off-site." I hope it will be just as fun.

Behold the hotel grounds.

Interesting sculptures.

Lots of flowers, especially orchids.

My room.

Swag.

I got a ginseng herbal facial this afternoon from a very direct Eastern European woman who (1) gave me bruises on my arms from overzealous massaging; (2) attempted extraction on a tiny cyst on my face that I've had since birth, leaving a Gorbachev-sized red mark on my left cheek; and (3) insinuated that I have a mustache.

Eastern European Woman: You wax your lip?
Monkey: Uh, no.
Eastern European Woman: You want to wax?
Monkey: Uh, no.

And now I am a bit self-conscious about looking like Groucho Marx.

But not enough to do anything about it. It's a tough battle sometimes, but my frugality usually triumphs over my vanity. Good for my checkbook, bad for the general public who has to look at my damn mustache.

Here's where I was informed I have a facial hair problem.

After changing out of my cupcake t-shirt and flip-flops, I headed to cocktail hour, where I noshed on small bites and learned of our upcoming dinner activity.




What the hell is "saughter"? Ugh.

If you haven't guessed already, we had a murder mystery dinner. I shit you not. At least I liked everybody at my table. Unrelatedly, it was revealed tonight that Whipping Boy worked at Wienerschnitzel for over a year, so I hereby decree that he shall henceforth be known as Wienerdude.

Wienerdude > Whipping Boy. No doubt.

Question: Who is redder? A sunburned Wienerdude or a slightly tipsy Purell?

Answer: A sunburned Wienerdude!

Dinner was reminiscent of what you get at a wedding reception.





But this part was not wedding-like. Say it with me, folks -- I see dead people.



This picture speaks for itself.

Weird moments during the murder mystery included a shout-out to my blogging alias by the murder mystery "detective" and a bizarre Asian joke at my expense.

WTF?

I was given this magnifying glass as a prize for being the victim of public humiliation and a totally inappropriate racial quip.

Because a free toy magnifying glass makes everything better.

For the slow readers out there, this is called sarcasm. S-A-R-C-A-S-M. Got it? Carry on.

We entertained ourselves while the game wore on. Some even contemplated snorting lines of crushed Smarties.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Then we headed to the hospitality suite. I played a few rounds of DDR Extreme with Purell. I really suck at this game, but it was free! Whee!

I figured it'd be poor form to get sloppy drunk during my first off-site, and I had little interest in anything else offered in the suite, so I went back to my safe haven of a room and read my MCLE packet while taking a nice long bubble bath.

Dorkiness + Luxury = Good End to the Day