I just finished prepping the house and food for a party we are hosting tomorrow night. Not the kegger party of my youth, but a nice refined BBQ with 30 of my closest friends. It will, probably, be crazier than a keg party because of this simple mathematical equation:
Beer + Syringed jello shots (seriously, my nurse friend is bringing these) + a 35 and older crowd = crazy party animals that don't get out of the house enough who will barf all over themselves and my dog and probably tumble to their death at the bottom of our ravine.
I can't wait.
Thankfully, I have 911 programmed into my speed dial. I may or may not call, depending on who falls over. I may in fact just leave the carnage in hopes that it will decompose and transform my shitty clay soil into soil that is worthy of Mr. Green Thumbs.
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Actual convo between my mother and I tonight:
BM: Hi Mom.
MOBM: Hi BM. Are you drunk yet?
BM: No, I'm just getting things ready for tomorrow.
MOBM: Wow, that is a first. Don't you know that it is beer thirty? How are things going?
BM: OK, but I am worried that I don't have enough food.
MOBM: Tell me what you have. And please tell me that you got me a bottle of Yager. You know I can't get down with my bad self without a few shots....
BM: I've got ten pounds of burger meat, 20 brats and 20 cheese infused sausages. I also made cole slaw and a few other sides. One L (sister) is bringing her world famous cheesy taters. A few others are bringing appetizers. You think that will be enough?
MOBM: How many people?
BM: About 30, give or take.
MOBM: Well, I don't know. Maybe you should go out and get some more meat. And make some potato salad. People like potato salad.
And so on and so forth. You get the idea.
Both of my parents, but especially my mother, are famous for making 100X more food than necessary for a party. My sister and I have inherited this trait from them. I have never done a Punnet Square to prove this, but I have enough empirical data to prove it. I am going to start a support group for this: Overfeeders Anonymous.
I have come to the conclusion (because I'd rather sit down with a beer and not worry) that if we run out of food tomorrow we will have the following choices:
1. Cannibalism. I know of at least one small child who will be attending. Everyone knows that children taste good. Like veal.
2. I will channel Jebus and have him turn my ten pounds of meat into enough to feed millions. Hopefully he will provide us with some delicious bread as well. It might be kind of awkward though, when I ask him to leave the party post-miracle. You see, he didn't RSVP. Plus I don't want to hear all night how there is no hope to save my soul from the eternal fire of hell since I frequently say his name in vain, in nasty, albeit creative ways. The guilt I got from attending 10 years of Catholic school is enough to last a lifetime, thank you very much.
3. Raid neighbor's garden.
4. Order pizza.
5. BBQ the dog. But she is old and probably not very tender.
So there you have it, I'm moving on. Even though I am still torn between option 1 and option 4.......
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Yesterday I was working in Mansfield, and then Marion, so I stopped at a farmer's market in order to get a few things for the party. I picked up 2 watermelons as I am making a delicious watermelon salad. They were the mini ones that don't have seeds. When I got home and carried them into the house, I actually held them up to my existing boobs and imagined what life would be like with huge, melon sized fun bags. I seriously wonder sometimes if I am in fact a 15 year old boy.