A Brief Post About My Part of a (Secret) Party and Office Help

I attended the much hoo-ha’ed meeting of the internet minds, but only for the day. I would have stayed longer to enjoy all the wonderment that is drunken karaoke, but I had to leave to go back to work TODAY, Sunday. That is because the last girl I hired, nicknamed “ElastiGirl” because that’s exactly who she looked like, flew the coop from the salt mines after only a couple of weeks. She didn’t give a notice and didn’t say goodbye.

Because of ElastiGirl’s hasty absence during the busiest friggin’ time of the year, I have had to place yet another Craigslist ad for office help. After only being gone a mere 10 hours, I opened my inbox to find 150 resumes waiting for me. It’s a rough economy as witnessed by the sheer number of responses this time. This is for a position where I had prominently featured the words “Part Time,” “Evenings” and “Perfect for High School Student” in the title.

After much consternation, I whittled the list down to ten people I might want to meet face to face. (If this is any indication of internet dating, I think I shall remain a lonely old crone should something unexpected happen to Mr. Demonic, otherwise known as the ex-Very Cute Boy.)

With a list of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, I could finally settle in to taking the photos off my camera.

People know I do NOT use my real name here, even though others know my real name and now know my real person. So, in the interest of anonymity, I am keeping some of the identities of the other party-goers incognito.

Here are the photos that I could share:

Nice toes. They belong to me. Nice butt. It belongs to our hostess’ dog.

These belong to a certain pale skinned beauty with lovely red hair. Her pedicure is impeccable.

Now, I can’t mention who these belong to. That’s because the subject is a minor, and I don’t think I have the parents’ written consent to splash her image across the internet. I tried to get a shot of the mother’s, but she kept hiding her feet under her bum. I don’t know why. Her shoes were lovely.

And here was our lovely hostess. (I have a secret for those who want to know. She was only moderately fluffy.)

Our hostess and her nice husband treated us all to lunch. It was delicious. I know this, because I ate everything on my plate, including the pickle. 99 times out of a hundred, I will not even touch the pickle. We then returned to her house, where 95% of us wanted to take a nap. The other 5% was her husband, who appears to be a human dynamo with excellent taste in music. (Amazing Rhythm Aces? I thought I was the only person who bought that album!? I even dug my copy out of the basement when I returned home.)

There was the promise of drunken karaoke last night, but I had to go home to T-H-I-S. Damn, damn, damn. Once home, I found my daughter stricken by a cold. She was limp and pale, and even Red Bull couldn’t revive her. That’s going to be some vacation she’ll have this week. I guess it figures that you would get sick on the first day of vacation.

Anyway, I wish I could have stayed at the party longer. 😦

Thanks, Mimi, for a very nice time!

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I Survived the Graduation Party!

My daughter’s graduation open house was last night. (In our area of the Tundra, kids who graduate in May tend to spread out their parties all through the summer. This ensures that every weekend there will be somewhere to go and something to celebrate.)

At first, Ms. MiniD did not want to have a graduation party. (I didn’t want to either, just in case she didn’t graduate, but that’s another story.) Later on, she relented.

At first, she didn’t want to help with the planning. “What kind of food do you want?” I would ask.

“NOTHING.”

“You have to have food.”

“NO I DON’T.”

“Sure you do.”

I DON’T CARE.”

Since she declined my offer to input, I came up with a menu of items that I thought would be nice and easy. When you’re my age, it’s all about nice and easy. My son and his girlfriend were supposed to pick up the party trays at our local gourmet market, thus making my involvement minimal.

About three weeks ago, my daughter decided she was going to plan her dessert. She wanted a chocolate fondue fountain. I had already ordered a cake. It was a cake that I chose, because she hadn’t given me specific directions. I was pretty firm. “I’m not buying a fondue fountain,” I said.

“You don’t have to. Matty (her current boy du jour) has one. You just have to buy chocolate.”

OK, so I bought the chocolate, the strawberries, the Rice Krispy treats (I would have made them myself, but this party was all about nice and easy, remember?), the marshmallows and bananas. I cut them up. The fountain was a smashing success, as witnessed by the huge pool of chocolate I found this morning on my kitchen floor.

Last week, she decided she needed a tent. The “old” people would be inside, and her friends would be outside. They needed shelter, since this has been a summer of many rain storms.

It’s hard to get a tent on short notice. I dialed around, and finally found someone who would deliver, set up and take down. It was expensive. My husband, the Thrifty Dude known as Mr. D, had congestive heart failure when he learned of the total cost for tent, tables, chairs, tablecloths and lights. I revived him by putting him in charge of beverages.

This was a huge mistake. I’m the type of person who likes for people to come over. I’m casual about it. I don’t fret over the way my house looks or if my food will be edible. I know my house is okay and my food (should I decide to cook) is always top-notch. A dinner at my house is close to a fine restaurant experience. Mr. D, on the other hand, is a big pre-party worry wart. He has to have crib notes on all the guests’ names. He makes sure the house is spotless. Yesterday morning before work, he was out in the front yard pulling weeds. “The party’s at night. No one is going to see those, and even if they do, they’ll be trampled by daybreak,” I said. He just harrumphed and kept going.

Beverage Boy went off the deep end with his assigned task. Mr. D asked around to various guests as to what they liked to drink. As a result, he bought cases of beer and bottles of wine and tons of hard liquor that we don’t even drink. He also loaded up on pop, Red Bull, water and juice. If I had handled the beverages, I would have bought a few different kinds of drinks and left it at that. If you wanted something else, there’s a liquor store down the street.

Last night, while the party was winding down, he was downing shots of tequila with some of our employees. My Japanese cousin, who had flown here just for the weekend, and I cleaned up the kitchen. The fridge is full of leftovers. We have more beer, pop, wine and hard liquor than we will consume in three years. I know this because three years ago when my son graduated, we had a similar party. I pulled the last of the Michelob Lite (YUCK!) from that party from the hall closet yesterday.

Not much was destroyed. Nothing broken. No kids imbibed alcohol improperly during the course of the festivities.

I would say that the party was a smashing success.