Imagine my surprise when, although usually a fancy affair involving classy duds and five star dining, the Dinner will be held at a board member's house. The board members will be cooking for us instead of a professional chef.
No seven course meal.
No twenty-five year old scotch.
No thousand dollar, scale-tipping bill.
You cheap bastards. You dirty little rat dicks. How dare you spit in my face and then compound a night of gluttony with more gluttony. I'm not a large man! I can't handle this much pressure!