Days left to be bad: 7
I like to call the Viente y cinco de mayo party an ironic one. Out of the 3 parties I went to this weekend, this, what I thought would be the least fun, was the most fun. However, it didn't start out that way and from what I was witnessing, I was sure we'd be leaving in one hour. Exactly. After I’ve had my intended 4 margaritas. One hour.
We brought our Mexican vegetarian casserole up to the house where the fiancé was blowing up a George Dubbya punching doll. Kevin's whispering her name to me "Diane, Diane, Diane…"
"Hi Diane!" like I’ve known her for years...she did look surprised that I confidently said her name, which made me think it wasn't Diane after all. Anyway, Kevin had to arrive early to attend their bicycle group meeting they were holding before the party was to start so I thought I’d help Diane with her blow up doll. I offer to work the hand-held, butter-churning style pump when Mary, a friend of everyone’s but me, shows up. (what the hell kind of sentence was that??) These women, by the way, are all perky, thin and very active. QUITE the opposite of me, in fact, my arms were already exhausted from working the pump for all of 55 seconds. I notice that "George" had a blowhole in his head (seems to be his general problem) so I offer to fill up his noggin. Diane says, "Go ahead...you seem to be full of a lot of air". Hmmm...This is not promising. Did I say one hour? I meant 45 minutes. And still 4 margaritas.
Diane and Mary take off for the kitchen, leaving me to fend for myself. So I wander in to their living room checking out all their record albums (yes…actual LP’s – kinda cool!), some pictures on the wall and finally settle in to a nice comfortable chair next to a stack of guitar lick books. Did I say 45 minutes? I mean 30…and yes still the 4 cocktails.
Well now I’ve been invited in to the kitchen for a bite to eat. Who the hell can say ‘no’ to that? I still have 8 glorious days of badness and I will utilize those to the fullest. I’m very good at ‘last days before diets’ you know? I mention to Diane that we brought our karaoke machine and she says something like “Well I know what you’ll be doing all night…”
“Honey? I’m gonna take those drinks to go…”
FINALLY, Kevin is out of the meeting and I can cling to his side for dear life. I mention how out of place I am amongst these smart, straight, normal people and he says, “now you know how I feel around YOUR friends…” “Moi friends? They’re so normal and fun and…”…okay I get it. Some time has passed and some alcohol has flowed in to my bloodstream and things are looking more funner. I head in to the kitchen to strike up some conversation with anyone who’ll listen when I notice some pretty cool and fun looking people! Yay! Turns out one of the guys is a member of a very popular local band. The karaoke machine is looking more promising now as I’m soon to be discovered! Hahaha…kidding really. But that is one repeat subject of my crying moments at the end of any particularly too-long partying night: “I SHOULDA BEEEEEN A ROCK STAAAR!!!….” heeeeeecuuup…
To make a somewhat long story shorter, the night progresses smashingly. Alcohol is flowing nicely, bellies are full, and laughter can be heard coming from every room. John, the owner of the house and party, is now pretty hammered. Excellent material (of course, all in good fun, since we’ve all been there)…I try to get him to sit down in his new Costco camping chair but he’s trying to place the arm of the chair inside his butt. Although, he momentarily looks pleased I shove him to the right a bit so he can put his butt in the butt part of the chair. I set out to make him some chips and salsa but John has other plans…he beelines out the house and sets free some alcohol he took captive earlier. Poor thing…I hate that. But as everyone always says, “it’s good to get it out now. He’ll feel better in the morning..” etc., etc. Now, John has settled in to some tomato plants and a bush by the fence and the remainder of us fun people have all gathered around an old discarded futon like it was a fire we so much wanted. (Except, with a fire, you can’t use it as table too!) And here we all stayed for about an hour. I tell my famous moosecock joke, Kevin pretends to throw another cup on the "fire", the veterinarian tells us about manually breeding horses (ew!) and offers to neuter all males (and not just dogs!), someone pulls out 'wheelchair weed' where one says it tastes like purple (What?). Was that really an hour that went by? Wasn't that how long I only wanted to stay originally? It would have been nice if this night could have gone on forever. But, alas, it cannot so we sadly say our goodbyes and hug our newfound friends and all go our separate ways.
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Today, I smile much remembering last night. And thought how cool it was that of all 3 parties, the one I thought I’d dread, turned out to create the fondest of memories…
Thanks John! Great Party! Happy Viente y Cinco de mayo, mi new amigos!
huh? I do not have a cat so how the hell did a poor little frog get in my house?? it looked like it might have died from asphyxiation or choked by hairs from THIS toad: 
(ain't he cute though?)
