So, the other night Cat invited me out to a party and…well, this happened. We weren’t planning on making a video, and it is progressively extremely NOT SAFE FOR WORK or CHILDREN or DELICATE EARS or the lady-swoony prone, like Glark. (Thanks again, Glark. And sorry. If it’s any consolation, the part where I start singing Weezer is because I was getting increasingly uncomfortable myself.)
Anyway, we had this camera and… well, we hope you enjoy the… intensity.
I’m the only person at the Standard Cafe. The wireless won’t be working until at least next week, so I’m currently swiping WiFi from the Sunset Strip, trying to nurse my stomach back into working order.
It’s all my fault, this feeling. Well, it’s a little not my fault, but it’s mostly my fault. Read more
So we hosted a small party last night, mostly comprised of people we’ve never met before. Five minutes after the first group of guests arrived, I was bleeding into the kitchen sink.
This was not one of my better parties. Well, I can’t speak for the people who attended, but I wish I could send apology notes to them. I guess that’s what I’m doing here, since many of them seemed familiar with this website. Read more
“I just want one of those damn entries out there to just be called ‘Chris and Allison’s Wedding.’ Is that so hard? Can’t it just say that and then talk about how pretty the wedding was?”
I would have done that anyway, even if the bride hadn’t specifically requested it, because the wedding was perfect. I cannot wait for the pictures. For the first time ever, I can’t wait to look through someone’s wedding pictures — a wedding I attended, even.
So, I’ve said that it was perfect. Now I’ll have to tell the self-centered story that these journal entries dictate. Sorry, Allison. You were the queen of winter, but I’m the princess of pamie.com, so I have to do what I have to do.
It’s more than just the excuse to give my house a good cleaning, or the fact that I like having candles lit all over the house. I really enjoy pulling out the extra chairs and placing them around the living room, grabbing extra hangers for the hall closet, and the scattered sound pretzels make when they hit an empty bowl.
I know it sounds very Wifey, but I really like throwing small parties. Gatherings. Groups. I like making dip. I enjoy making Lemon Tea Cakes, and spraying lavender-scented cleaner on the dining room table before placing coasters in an attractive pattern. I get way girlie when there’s company coming, and tonight I think I hit my girliest point yet:
I just hosted a Tupperware party. Yes, a real-live Tupperware lady arrived at my house, promptly at seven, and proceeded to give a demonstration that involved three raffles for free Tupperware and ended with close to a hundred dollars with of Tupperware purchased. Not bad for a Tuesday night.
“You’re blossoming into a lady right before my very eyes,” Liz said to me.
“I know,” I replied. “What the hell has happened to me?”
I’m tired of looking for apartments, calling apartments, the word “apartments” and the syllables that make up the word “apartments.” Therefore, I will pass on this bit of wisdom I’ve learned over the weekend.
I thought it’d be a piece of cake, just walking up, renting a karaoke machine, taking it to a bar and letting people sing. It wasn’t until after I got the equipment that I realized I needed to be a bit more prepared. Luckily I had enough time to prepare, and I think we did a really good job at throwing the Bad Dog’s first Karaoke Smackdown.