Party Crash: Wall Street Warriors, Ad Nauseam

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So you thought another post about Wall Street Warriors was out of the question, did you? Well, guess what? You thought wrong. Dead wrong. You don’t pop open a bottle of wine and start drinking without letting it decant and we don’t take just one shot at the greatest story ever told and call it a day. (Not sure if that analogy even works but spilt milk and, as they say, no crying). Thus, last night we found ourselves at Trinity Place, the site of the (fingers crossed) award winning show’s We’ve Made It Through Two Episodes, This Is Cause For Celebration! Happy Hour. Pete had to “work late” (sounds like a good cover for staying home to play World of Warcraft) and unfortunately couldn’t make it but I’m going to continue with the first person plural while going through the pictures I--we-- took because it gives me a false sense of superiority and because Carney is, in his own words, “omnipresent” and was therefore with me last night. Let’s take a look. Christian Slater---->

This is Sean Skelton, purveyor of WSW
and the man you can hold accountable for this thing.
Not sure if the girls have a role. They look innocent
enough but isn’t it the innocent looking ones who are
always secretly calling the shots? Like take
Mad Money, for instance. You thought
Jim Cramer was the one with whom you were to file
your grievances, per offense taken to thrown chairs,
hearing loss, vertigo, etc. Actually a PA named Tad. Really.

WSW star Tim Sykes meets and greets.

Vanessa Kerry: taking cues from her older sister, oddly
making appearances at Wall Street Warriors parties.

“I’m going to close eat this f*cking deal
cracker and make a billion dollars
maybe take a nap afterward!”
Retired WSW’s have to take what they can get.

Two weeks earlier...
[Caterer: We’ve also got
these really cute mini hamburgers, but you’re probably
not interested in them, are you?
WSW Party Planner: Um, YEAH I AM!
OMG these are perfect—they’ll feel like giants
holding them and they can say things like
“Hey, look how big these make my hand look” and
then make the obvious and trite joke about their correlating
penis size, it’ll be great, I mean, we’ll be just be adding fuel
to the fiery she-beast that is their vanity but fuck it, they’re
never going to change, we might as well get on board.]

Poor girl just wandered into the wrong
room and hasn’t been seen since.

INDemand Networks President Robert Jacobson is
dying to “sign a contract with [WSW star] Sandy.”
Back off, Bob. This girl’s all class.

An unfortunate sense of decorum prevents us from
insinuating that this reaction was elicited by being
forced to eat whilst watching this:

(But seriously, you know we love Bob, as documented here).

In lieu having anything to say to one another, John D.
and Jeff R. stood in silence, dreaming of the old frat house;
days spent funneling Busch and smashing the cans on
their foreheads, nights spent accidentally making out with
each other and then chalking the whole thing up
to being “totally wrecked, man.”

Instead of handing in what was meant to be a ten-page
paper for Politics, Statecraft, and the Art of Ruling,
a friend of mine in college submitted a two-page short story
called and about Communist Clams and Socialist Seahorses.
I always wished I had the balls to do something like that.
This guy has those balls, standard for a WSW.

“What was that?”
“I said don’t pick up that fifty by my foot.
What are we, plebes? Don’t even look at it. Look,
that girl with the camera’s just waiting for one of us
to pick it up and snatch a photo mid-lewd act.
Can you imagine if that got out?
We’d be done at Goldman, for sure.”
And now, because you were kind enough to scroll through
these pictures and commentary despite a dearth of Pete Murphy,
here it is, your moment of Zen:

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