Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Too. Many. Parties.

I got home tonight from a benefit--which I suppose qualifies as a party--and discovered that I'd been invited to another party.

This one is on December 26th. This means December 26th can now join December 3rd, 10th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 20th, 21st, 29th, and 31st in offering me yet another chance to pay big bucks to a babysitter so I can go out and get hammered.

Honestly. What ever happened to getting hammered at home while my children bicker in the next room? (That's my version of family values. It's not exactly the Waltons, but at least it's cheap.)

And where the hell are all these hospitable people when it's late February in Chicago, and everyone's bored suicidal with take-out food, Netflix, and their spouses? That's when I'd give at least one kidney, maybe two, for the chance to get dressed up in something sparkly and trade witticisms with someone who has 1) never seen me without my makeup on and 2) doesn't strew dirty socks all over my house.

I'm just asking.



  1. Sorry, the best I can do is early April.


  2. 1. They ate too much in December and don't want any one to see them till they hit the fat farm.
    2. They overspent the budget and can't throw a humble bash.
    3. They are drinked or drugged out and in the January stupor of facing the new year.

  3. They obviously don't read your blog. I like parties in February, but until I buy a house with "representational space" (I love that phrase--it's from my youth as the daughter of a diplomat) the best I can offer probably wouldn't involve sparkly clothing...

    ldbzlhj: a ladybug that reads ladies home journal


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