My friend Kris recently hosted a party to celebrate the first anniversary of 29th birthday. To the rest of the natural world, that would be her 30th. She invited me and a melee of friends and co-workers.
I am always intrigued by how grown people react to "parties."
Some are fairly sedate, such as myself. I prefer to sip my drink, sit in the corner with Kris's college-pal Valerie and mock the other party goers mercilessly. We had plenty to choose from.
By the way, Ken, I have that "ASSHOLE" tee shirt I promised to make you. Remind me to drop it off.
Other will drink in excess, immediately upon entering, and be stumbling drunk by 10 p.m. One person in particular probably won't be awake again until Monday, and she's going to have a nasty bruise from falling into the doorway of the bathroom.
But there is always that special someone who walks in the door, and you know right away ... aaah, I have new material.
Let's just say that grown women should not wear pigtails.
And I understand the desire to root for your favorite college team. I went to the University of Kansas for crying out loud. I get college sports fervor. I once had my car towed DURING class because I was parked in an area reserved for season ticket holders for KU basketball. I was IN class! Fuckers. But I digress.
What I don't understand is why you would attend a party, headphones on and listen to the game during the party -- while dressed from head to toe in the college paraphanalia.
But I knew I had to share the moment she was petting her dog (yes, she brought her dogs to the party too) on the floor and started picking ticks or something off of her. Ewww... grosss ... cheese platter two feet away.
Then she leaned down and said, "Do you smell shit?"
"Noooo," I replied, a little hesitant. "Why do you ask?"
"This dog likes to dig, eat off the table (saw that one earlier) and roll in shit. I just hate that."
Oh good God.
Happy birthday, Krissy!
7 comments:
From the current amateur therapist to the future therapist: Initial diagnosis of girl with pigtails is moderate to severe social anxiety disorder. It doesn't really matter how she got there. The fact is that she brought everything from her world that made her feel safe. She didn't really want to come, and her love for the birthday girl was the only thing that brought her out of the safe zone, but she did bring the zone with her i.e. the dogs, the walkman, the game. And the hair? She gave up. Tried to fix it, hated it and then put it back in the most absurd way she knew how because it would make her less approachable. Same with the rest of her appearance. If she could write about the whole experience today I hope that she would do so with humor because really in the end...who gives a shit? Thanks for sharing.
Make sure my tshirt is XL.
I want to know why Ken gets a way cool ASSHOLE t-shirt??
He earned it!
On occasion, pigtails work. Granted, not for a party, but your sister puts her hair in little pigtails when she’s cleaning, and I gotta say, absolutely adorable.
Previously, you did a post about what not to say when you first meet someone. “Do you smell shit?” has to rank right up there.
Fabulous picture!
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