All business in the front, but the party is in the back!
I am the friend who always brings the drinks to the party. And you? What are you bringing? Oh, you know, just a little garlic mango chicken salad with sundried tomatoes and figs, goat cheese and the menses of a supermodel. Nothing special. I suck at cooking. The thing is, I don't really care. I can just as easily eat a box of Ritz crackers as I can a loaf of warm pugliese drizzled with olive oil and asiago cheese. So when my friends have parties and I ask what I can bring they always say drinks. Oh? So you want me to whip up a pomegranate-appletini sort of thing? No, they demur, a few bottles of Orangina will be fine. And I breathe a sigh of relief. I like my role as the Bearer of Store Bought Beverages. Tomorrow is Zoey's big birthday bash. I have just returned from the grocery store, Toys 'R Us and Party America where I pretty much spent the sum of my severance on hot dogs and juice boxes, balloons, balls and bubbles. I am lucky in that I have the taste buds of a ten year old. I understand hot dogs and orange slices. Yellow mustard speaks to me. But what I don't get are the party favors. There was a good twenty minutes that I stood in that aisle at Party America laboring over the decision of plastic clappers or shovels? Water guns? Stickers? Play-doh? My friends have been busy these last couple of years and there are a lot of little kidlets to treat. I was feeling cheap and went with some temporary tattoos at .99 cents each. The girls get fairies and the boys get Harley Davidson; anyone in between gets a tiger. I hope none of the parents frown on tats for tots. If they do I can just tell them that the derelict teenager who rang me up approved of my choice in party favors. He told me so as he twiddled with his lip ring and I felt validated. So tomorrow, if you're coming to Zoey's birthday party, please pardon the lack of aioli sauce. Please accept my proffered hot dogs, the potato salad I bought in a vat at Safeway. Please know that while I don't really care about the food, I care about you. And that's what parties are for: friends. Now if you'll please excuse me I have to go clean the house from top to bottom. Because if you saw the state of my toilet bowl right now? Ooooph. Now THAT I care about.
Post a Comment