After he couldn't get the glass out, he decided to try to pick out the dry ice in his drink with his bare fingers...and he burned the fuck out of them. When he hopped up out of the booth to run to the bathroom and wash his instantly frost-bitten fingers under some warm water, the amount of booze he'd consumed caught up with him and he fell out of the booth and almost sprawled out on the floor.
In the hour that we were there, Philip went through TWO of the half-sized Warp Core Breaches (meaning he consumed 10 oz of liquor - the equivalent of six and a half drinks - in about an hour!!!). Half-way through his second drink he started trying to pry his drink's glass container out of the metal holding stand.
Here's us with an elder Klingon. The two people on the left hammed in on our photo opp because they were too scared to ask the other younger Klingon for a photo. (That's how seriously intimidating he was! Other adults were too scared to ask him for a photo! Hahahahah).
Here's Philip, instilled with a new sense of confidence, in front of our brand new (much more professional looking) banner! Hey, I'll give you one guess where we decided to go after we were done for the day...
Next we took it up a notch (from DorkFactor4 to DorkFactor7 if you were wondering) and did the "Borg" themed 3-D movie ride. This photo's blurry because you're not supposed to take pics and right as I was taking it, some huge guy in god-damned Klingon outfit screamed "NO PHOTOS!" at me over the PA and this almost turned into a blurry photo of Philip and I crapping in our pants.
After getting our Warp Core buzz on, we decided to hit the Star Trek-themed rides in the Star Trek-themed casino. First we went on one of those rides where you get in a theater that's on hydraulic lifts and when stuff on the screen moves the pistons shake the shit out of the little box you're in and it feels like you're moving. These rides are great sober, but throw in a Warp Core Breach and the fun's only magnified!
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the very best of Star Trek-themed alcoholic beverages, the WARP CORE BREACH! (Please note the vapor cloud in the container due to the copious amounts of dry ice they put in it).
Here's our totally ghetto-ass booth all set up the next morning at the conference. We ended up taking the "Fucked Company" banner down because we were worried that people might think that we were saying that we were a fucked company because the airline lost our banner - instead of realizing that AdBrite's founder had started a website called FuckedCompany. Da-da-disaster! Instead of trying to explain how we were feeling, how about I just show a close-up of Philip's expression?
One of us had a tiff of the logo on our laptop so we got it blown up super big and printed out on a giant paper banner. We then hand-painted it. The entire time we laughed about how ghetto it is to show up at an advertising themed conference (you know, where people are supposed to be experts on how to advertise) with a fucking paper, hand-painted banner.
The sticker even goes as far to imply that if you did decide to disassemble the hub, you wouldn't be able to put it back together in working order. Then suddenly, it's like the thing is insulting you and then....it's on.
Hahahaha. Philip needed a haircut before a date and made the mistake of going to some barbershop he found near our work in Menlo Park. The lady that cut his hair did fine up until the end when she busted out the trimmers.
Philip explained: "So she takes them out to do the usual neatening thing they do. You know, even up the neckline...bzz! Then around your ear...bzz! bzz! Then the lady brings the clippers up to my forehead and suddenly I'm confronted by this horribly loud and sustained BZZZZZZZZZZZZ! as she uses the clippers to completely shave off my hairline's natural widow's peak." Hahahahaha. I almost pissed myself laughing. He was like "I went from looking Jewish to looking Puerto Rican in one swift swoop of the clippers!" The laughs continued well into the following weeks as we charted the progress of his "forehead stubble."
Putting labels that read "do not disassemble" is pretty much the dumbest thing you can do in an office full of nerds. No one would have even considered disassembling the wifi hub, until we all saw the big sticker that instructed us not to. Only because it begs the question "Huh, why shouldn't I disassemble it?" (PS - Note how Philip's hand is strategically placed to obscure the forehead stubble. Hahah).
After our jams, we were shooting the shit about his company and the prospect of me moving out to San Francisco when this lady (who weighed like 83lbs and was totally spun out of her mind on meth) came over to us and just kept talking and talking and talking and talking. The only time she even stopped to take a breath was when she smiled for this photo. After ten minutes of politely enduring her word-torrent and hinting that we were ready to be left alone, we finally gave up and literally walked away in the middle of her (still!) talking. Thumbs up for meth!
