Oh my God. I don’t even know where to start except to tell you that I’m breaking this shit up into three posts. This story is too fucking awesome to not serialize in some way. So let me start by saying that this story (like all of my stupid stories) are 100% true.
I have lots of horrified witnesses.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to spin a fine yarn, Keillor style.
Let’s start with a catserole. HAHAHAHA.
It started last year when my sons’ school started a new tradition of throwing mixers for all the students and families of each grade. Everyone got invitations on the first day of school and the weather was nice enough to have them outside.
This year people weren’t quite so on top of it. I was disappointed because last year’s parties were so great. For the record, 5th grade had the best spread AND the best booze. Not that we had a 5th grader or anything, but we felt obliged to check out what the other grades were up to.
Then there were the floods and now it’s October and Testiclese’s grade still doesn’t have it together.
Our school is full of really wealthy families with FANTASTIC houses. I was griping at the picnic table, all, “How come you bitches have such nice houses but no one is willing to throw a damn party? Why even have a nice house if you aren’t going to use it?” and someone got all in my face and was all, “YOU have a nice, big house, YOU DO IT!” and I was like, “Fine! I will!” then Scrotus came running up to me with his tooth hanging out of his lip and here we are.
I was going to have it at the park but the weather was all squirrelly so I said fuck it, I’ll do it at the house. Plus, I had the old ace in the hole with the 10 foot-long banana split to wow the kids with.
I usually panic before parties but this time around I decided I was going to STOP THE MADNESS and REFUSE TO BE PART OF THE PROBLEM and BREAK THE CYCLE of knocking myself out before the party by cleaning the house in order to give everyone the illusion that I am perfect and my house always looks this way.
Like you don’t do it.
I even got all superior about it by posting this.
Yes. Everyone should be like me.
Of course that is not how it played out, as my
Lonny’s new assistant can attest to. I cleaned like a mo-fo. I also unloaded the sexy shoes Lonny tried to give me on her. I’m trying to get her to quit her Mad Greens/Smashburger job and come to work for us more.
I invited her to stick around for a drink and some appetizers (which ended up being LOTS of veggies and dip and cheese sticks, sigh). It didn’t take her long to figure out that this wasn’t a grown-up party when about 30 six year-olds started reinacting Lord of the Flies in my house.
“So this is what everyone is working so hard to achieve?” she said, referring to The Dream of getting married and having kids.
“Yep. Living the dream. You better get on it.”
I just set her biological clock back about 15 years. Given that she’s 21, having your first kid at 36 should put her right with the Boulder mainstream. Hopefully she wanted me to do that.
I thought I took some horrifying video footage of the madness in my house but somehow it has disappeared. Oh well. Testiclese rather nervously reported to me that some kid was threatening the others with a power drill and a hammer.
Anyway, I’ll admit that starting the night off with tequila shots probably wasn’t the best idea but I had to cultivate a Zen-like attitude towards the evening somehow and that seemed like the fastest way to get there. How else am I supposed to go with the flow as kids run around the house crushing potato chips into the carpet?
Whatever happens, happens baby.
The other mothers all looked at me in a pitying and consoling kind of way. “Thank you so much for doing this. You are so brave.” And then gave me a little squeeze on the arm. Of course I was like, “Ain’t none of you ever thrown a rager before?” I mean, a bunch of kids can fuck up your house, but in a very surface kind of way, nothing a vacuum and some picking up won’t fix.
Grown up ragers involve sticky drinks spilled everywhere and barf. For the record, there was neither. Kids drink water at my parties.
Ultimately I was waiting for 5:30 to come so I could bust out the Banana Split and send everyone packing.
To be continued.
Meanwhile, it’s time to cut the crap.