Time to Par-tay with Santa and Vodka, II

The excitement is mounting greater than George W's debts to the Dark Prince, and I'm afraid with all the pump, Poodle M and I may be walking into Al Capone's vault.

This is the email that I just received from foreverever:

So it's 2 hours until this doo doo parade of co-worker party christmas awesomeness begins. I have decided not to waste food/money with eating today so that I can gorge myself for free and get drunk faster here at work. . .this had caused me to feel a little hyper active and a general feeling of giddiness. Like Christmas? Kind of like that I think.. augh.. . it's unstoppable the christmas spirit. So i've scoped out what's going on. .. It looks like a check-in table exists when you first come in the building... That means possibly once we cross that barrier then it's all out mashed potato eating and dancing haven. So i'm going to scope it out and see if we can go around it. .. This could involve two distinct mission impossible type scenarios. ..

1. I meet you guys and just walk in.
2. I meet you guys and hand off a fake ID to Poodle M to flash to some sort of security guard and me bringing you in formally as my guest.

We must be aware that neither of these scenarios could be utilized as an entry point and plans dramatically changed. I'll call you guys closer to showtime to give you the lowdown.

Good stuff, all those hours watching MacGuyer and GI Joe are going to pay off.

Peace,

F

*****

I can't tell you where foreverever works, just know that with prestige come rent-a-cops supervised by partyzilla event coordinators in black dresses, black pumps, and sparkly sweaters, and they've got this thing sealed up tighter than the Green Zone in Ramamdan.

Roger Over.