We must admit – one of the most rewarding aspects of being a Tomato Battle crewmember, is getting to meet all of you awesome Tomato Heads. We have made countless new friends. Been invited to share in some kick-ass tattoos. And have been able to get to know some rather fantastic people.
It only seems fair – that we extend the same opportunity to you.
So, although this is probably the most incriminating post to ever be written in the history of bloggerdom, we will take one for the team. After all – the best relationships are fifty-fifty.
Just don’t judge.
Now one understanding must be made before we continue: it takes a lot of work to throw an event as massive as this one. We are in the office constantly. On the phone religiously. Attending meetings day in and day out. In fact, this writer won’t be surprised if carpal tunnel befalls all Tomato Battle crew members in the coming years. And if that wasn’t enough – infiltrating the super secret society that apparently controls massive amounts of tomatoes, is a nail-biting experience. Just try securing four semis of tomatoes, and you will understand all too well.
Don’t get us wrong, we wouldn’t trade this for the world. In fact, more often than not, we are left pinching ourselves – ensuring that this is real life. We are not above declaring to all who will listen: we have the best jobs in these United States. However – a certain level of decompression is necessary from time to time. If we don’t blow off some steam every now and then? Well. We would probably sacrifice the soulless ginger co-founder to the Tomato Gods.
And since said act is illegal and all – we opt for a different kind of release, like the kind we participated in last night.
After spending all day in the office, a date with a few beers and some competitive games of pool was a must. We meandered to a local restaurant and pub, ordered some ridiculously strong ales, and set about our relaxation. After a few games of pool in which this writer swears were rigged (there is no way an individual can win over and over again thanks to sheer luck) and arguably a few too many glasses of beer – we made our way back to our office.
Now our office used to be a dance studio. Oh yes. A dance studio. Which means it is equipped with full length mirrors and hard wood floors. Add a ridiculous stereo system that rivals the hardware in Key Arena – and we have our very own Tomato Battle Dance Club. In which we took full advantage.
And while one would assume that it was the three Hot Tomatoes who insisted on dancing in front of the mirrors to Ke$ha. Over. And over. And over again, for an hour and a half, until the completely organic choreography was perfectly executed and memorized – one would be dead wrong. It was our fearless leader himself. Yes. HIMself. Front and center. Twirling like a ballerina. Dropping it like it was all sorts of hot.
In fact, he was making us ladies look amateur at best.
After the awe-inspiring dance session was completed, there was really only one thing to do: listen to Britney Spears “sing” about the world ending over. And over. And over again. Thanks to who? You guessed it: our musically-inclined founder. Add our own Tomato Battle version of a “Champagne Shower” – which consisted of luke-warm Coors Light cans, keys, an attempt at a shotgunning session, and a ridiculous mess – well. We think we brought the night to a rather fantastic level.
And when all was said and done, and our legs were tired from dancing. And our voices were tired from laughing. And our ears were tired from too much Britney. And we reeked of Coors Light. It was two in the morning and we were ready to call it a successful work day.
We left in the wee hours of an Emerald City morning with smiles on our faces and rejuvenated spirits.
Ready to do it again.