NSFW! Pictures from the 6th annual No Office Holiday Party

We have very few nice things to say about 2016, and it’s not over yet so we don’t want to burn any bridges (which at this point might be a literal thing that happens), but this past Friday’s sixth annual No Office Holiday Party, which we cohosted with our friends at the skint, gave us all a chance to hold up a literal dumpster fire in front of a camera and tell 2016 to clean out its desk. And that felt good.

But you’re not here to re-hash the details of a great party, you’re here for the photos! Because pics or it didn’t happen, and our snazzy photo booth by Nicole Neenan captured your proudest and foggiest moments, so check out a few choice shots below and catch the rest of the Photo Booth pics in our Facebook album! Don’t forget to tag yourself and tag your friends. UPDATE 12/13: The rest of the party pics by Mary Dorn are now online too!

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The sixth year might just have been our best year: We chowed down on vegan weenies from Yeah Dawg, sang our hearts out to Rockstar Karaoke, decorate tote bags with Artists & Fleas, and a lucky handful of disgruntled employees got to cuss out their boss (played by Brokelyn comedy dad Eric Silver) and smash a prop bottle over his head, courtesy of J & M Special Effects! The bottles were smashed by a select few, but it was a catharsis experienced by all.

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Another huge thank you to our sponsor, Coworkrs, for getting all of you such sweet swag on your way in and setting up an outdoor lounge, and to Donofrio Tax Prep for their support too. We couldn’t have done it without you! Ditto Littlefield, our favorite BK venue to celebrate office-less life for the past six years.

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And last but not least, a big, big thank you to Doctor Mister, our stellar DJ for the evening who kept things hot before and long after karaoke. (If you’re feeling grateful we didn’t include any embarrassing photos of you popping and locking on the dance floor, rest assured the party pictures are coming soon.)

So here’s to a trash fire of a year capped off with a drunken holiday reminder of why, in the absence of Santa Claus and hope itself, New York might be the only thing left worth believing in.

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