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I think my voice is
just coming back. I do speak with a pretty pronounced rasp in my throat
now, but at least I don't have to write my deli orders on a paper
napkin and sheepishly slide it across the counter to the slicer dude
anymore. And all this because at my company's Christmas party (it's
now Summer), I had to scream to be heard above the thump of the music.
I guess drunkenly bitching about my cubicle (or whatever) above the
din was worth a couple paralyzed vocal chords and partial hearing
loss, but the inconsistency of the dj was unforgivable. The guy would
spin some awesome early-nineties hip-hop that got people movin', and
just when he was hitting his crescendo, and it was time for Rob Base
or Hammer to make an appearance, he'd throw on like Garth Brooks or
something. It absolutely killed me, and totally deflated an otherwise
good time. Granted, maybe he was so horrified by the awful white guy
dancing going on that he pulled the plug for everybody's sake. Or
maybe he was shocked by the bodies hitting the floor in inebriated
stupors. Could have been he free booze. But the more likely culprit
was the severe lack of food. I think I managed to down like one cheese
doodle, which really didn't offset the fourteen beers and several
shots of whatever I was forced to down. I have no idea what this joint
is like on any given night, but I have a feeling it might be like
Jersey and/or Long Island crashing down on your head. [MF]
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