You’ll have to excuse the pictures/commentary from last night’s Trader Monthly party, as they may seem overly dismissive in their resentment. Perhaps that’s due to some residual anger we’re holding onto from being CARDED by the name checking girl at the door. Molière once said, “The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.” Groucho Marx once said, “I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be.” And Jon Corzine, when asked during a debate with Doug Forester last November, if he though the drinking age should be lowered to 18, replied, “I think it is 18, isn’t it?” But none of those people were at event last night, and none had to suffer the great injustice of being asked to substantiate the fact that he/she was over 21. Honestly, that’s just tacky. (And we’ve been well over 21 for some time now, thankyouverymuch).
You’d think, after surveying the facts, we’d be right to simply upload our pictures, slap on a “You all suck” caption to each one and go on about our day. And you’d be right—we would be right to do just that. But we’ve decided that’s not going to happen, not today, not on this blog. We’re going to earn our keep one saccharinely sweet photo/accompanying blurb at a time. For two reasons: the first is that, once in the party, everyone was very nice, not once asking us to produce a birth certificate with the raised seal. And we don’t want to let our feelings for Chippy at the door affect our portrayal of the others. (Although, come to think of it, one did ask if we were “over eighteen.” Should we lump him and Door Wench together? Eh, questions best left unanswered. Besides, we’ve already captioned the pictures, and let’s be honest—you’re not going to put up much of a hissy fit either way). Secondly, we’ve decided by a vote of one to raise the level of discourse on this site. Let’s get started.
Traders: they like to play coy!
Traders: hell yeah, they double fist!
Here we have an interesting dilemma:
Eschew camera in order to avoid documenting copious amounts
of schmutz on one’s shirt or sate attention-whore palette and
DealBreaker mascot Pete Murphy obsession?
[drum roll, drum roll please]
Traders: they know they look good!
[Exact words: how hot do I look in that
picture?! Will you send me a copy?]
Traders: they’re not afraid to show some skin if the occasion calls for it!
Every TV in the room had a static shot of this girl
proudly displaying her wingspan. Pete was very upset,
nay incensed, that none were showing the Tigers game.
Ah, well, we can’t win them all, now can we, Peter?
(Or, you know, more than one).
After taking this picture, the guy on the right
told us, “Ben Affleck is my favorite actor,”
though with nary a whisper of any relevant
Boiler Room trivia to substantiate
his claim. (Yeah…for some reason
people really feel they can open
up with us…).
This photograph does not even begin to capture
what a kick-ass! dancer this guy was.
JP Morgan, you have no idea how lucky you are
to have this guy. Bill Harrison: look what you’re
walking away from!
Guy on the left told us we were “awesome” and that
he was “going to give [us] some stock tips.”
We told him he was “awesome”
and asked if, instead of the tips, he could arrange
for us to meet Florence Henderson.
This guy told Pete, “This is a total [acid]
flashback. You remind me of myself from
Thirty years ago!”
Cue our exit (and Pete “just [having] something
in my eyes!” the entire way home.)