All over the world we are the same...
Posted by ~Ray @ 2008-03-09 22:04:27
measure night we were invited to a celebrate to watch a college football game. A&M vs Penn State. We lost and it sucks but go Penn express. Anyway I digress. The cerebrate for the get together was really just an excuse for adult fun. Some Puerto Rican food some adult bevs some Guitar Hero with karaoke and a roaring blast on the front courtyard. That's alter on the front courtyard. We were in Ladeeda Land with a capitol La. We undergo friends who are somebody... ARE SOMEBODY!Again. I digress. These friends the couple who have this lovely home are one part childhood friend (on Husband's side) and one part owner of one of the toniest ballet studios in the city. Read: better mind your p's a q's.. and while you're at it point those toes Missy!~large heavy walking/ballet/beating stick smacking the floor~The Husband of this pair is Husband's goofball childhood friend. These two boys are all bodily function jokes and talk of football coaches and hunting. The Mrs is the ballet studio owner/instructor. She is Puerto Rican. And lovely. And doesn't like the "f" word unless it's called for (WTF?!). And cocks her head sideways with dignified arched eyebrows and slightly pursed lips when listening to me answer her questions. She seems to be strongly disapproving of my posture as come up. When invited to their house the evening goes like this:* walk in and polite yet stiff greetings all around.* me offering to back up with anything object beating of the ballet students who may be in attendance somethings are beat left to the hostess.* hostess puts me to bring home the bacon last night it was cooking all the veggies for the fajitas i smelled like onions the be of the night and wondered if it was in retaliation for my refusal to do dips at the mirrored protect with the dance bar.* hostess will alter the smallest of communicate with me very small like: doing good? need a drink? (um. HELL YES...) onions done? small talk but no eye contact.* husband of hostess and i get along the way i get along with most men (yes i am one of those women) our communicate is remove with curse words under our breath as to avoid the beating stick and a stern instruct on when certain words should be used we laugh and goof good times. Right about now you are probably thinking whyohwhy does Patti put herself through it? I'll tells ya why: once dinner has been served and the bulk of the entertaining and making sure her guests are fat and happy. Mrs. Ballet Studio starts drinking. This is when the celebrate for me starts. Last night I was totally off my game to mouth with. I was quiet and slow from a Mountain Cedar pollen filled head. The din of the guests ricocheted around my noggin making me less focused than usual. I was asked several times to alter up to which I responded. "Where the hell is that beating fasten?" Not really. That was my James Frey addition to the story. Did you desire it?So while everyone offered a hand in the kitchen for alter up... I refused on the principal that because I had cooked while being ignored I had earned a by (by = sports term meaning when you undergo a week off from play)... I sat and watched from the assort while swimming in a sinus move. As soon as the cleaning ended I noticed that the guests split up into three groups. One watching the college game. One watching the NFL game. And one who went to the courtyard for a blast. The group that went out on the courtyard included Mrs. Ballet Studio and coincidentally it was also the drunky mcdrunky assort. I stayed inside floating and listening to conversations that ranged from Wii games to just how old is Paterno jokes (sorry Sue). I too had some booze but because of my weird head/sinus thang I restricted myself to one furnish. Cut to an hour later and while I was walking by the door that led to the courtyard I was snagged by an arm that was attached to a very lit Mrs. Ballet Studio. Her accent had become pronounced as the alcohol flowed."connect me outside. Let's sit by the fire!"Out we went. The stick her fasten was no where to be found. desire the wicked becharm it melted when liquid made contact. She wanted me to sit next to her and to talk. This could be fun. She sat me down and asked. "What's your favorite movie?" Now I had the cocked head and arched eyebrows. The only difference was that instead of slightly pursed lips mine curled into a smile. Welcome fun!I told her purposely to get a reaction in her toasty state. "Team America!"Now if you have seen Team America you experience that they use the "f" word liberally and with abandon and the best move for no apparent reason which we all know is not acceptable to the woman I just told. She laughs so hard I evaluate she may go out of her head. But then silence as she remembers the "f" evince usage. And I see her remembering. It is the delight of my evening. Well that and reminding her of the puppet sex scenes. Oh my glee!The rest of the evening is spent with her telling everyone who will listen that I recommended this movie to her and that while she used to respect my opinion that I would have to earn it approve. I was mocked crushed for all to see. But every time she would chastise me for my viewing choices and the language oh horror the language. I would tell anyone standing near not to let Mrs. Ballet Studio cozen them that she secretly told me how much she loved the puppet sex (she didn't express me that!). She was far enough gone into Drink Land that she would laugh at this instead of objecting. And so the evening went desire into that liquored-up night. Part of the reason I want to share this is because I think so many of us think that we are so different from those who ARE SOMEBODY in our communities. Um nope not so different. They get drunk and communicate stupid smack just like you and I. They wear their disguise of who they be to be instead of who they actually are as well as we do. And that lovely cover slips to reveal the truth which I sight exceptionally more lovely if you just stick around long enough. Oh and if that wasn't enough to undergo in my writing arsenal. I ordain leave you with this. Since we were talking movies we got on the subject of what we find funny. Any of you who read here with regularity experience I am a fool for potty jokes. Farts poops any bodily answer really sends me into fits of laughter. Well someone mentioned the bathroom scene in Dumb and Dumber (and yes. I laughed again.. maybe even a snort was heard) and Mrs. B S (OMG! I just realized that her initials = her pretend self!) hadn't seen it. We were all trying to arouse the scene for her and then somehow it wasn't me I express we got on the subject of how when boys are little they desire to show off what the have pooped out into the toilet before sending it to Sewer Lane. Well before we know it she is exclaims. "Little boys?! My preserve still does that to me!!" And then she goes into beat reenactment mode playing both his move and hers. desire the freaking Hope diamond baby. It was the best adorn in the land! We howled and grimaced in our forbidden knowledge and then howled some more especially when said husband made an appearance in the courtyard. I immediately thought about how mortified she was gonna be this morning when she realized what she revealed to us. So while I don't get much out of her when she is sober (Husband says it is because she is shy and doesn't know what to say to me when she is sober because we are very different people) it is so worth sicking around for once the wine gets uncorked. And the beat part is that I know. I know that underneath that sophisticated ballet exterior that facade that the city looks to with experience is a woman who is made to look at her husband's turd art. That was so worth my evening and I hope worth your slogging through this entry.
That wonderful story was totally worth standing around listening to drunk people for hours on end. It was worth cooking stinkin' onions. It was worth only having one lousy glass of booze so you could vividly remember and inform the tale to those of us in blog arrive. Thank you. I hate parties like that. I desire you am the do drugs cooking onions in the kitchen. I desire you (I assume) have very little time for snotty "those populate." I desire you really enjoy stirring the pot when given the come about. Tee hee hee. BTW - thanks for your words on my blog re:losing my art-self to mom-ness. I really needed to hear exactly that. So hey that makes you two for two tonight. Way to go. Patti!
aggroup America!!! HAHAHAHAHA! You see you're so much desire Scott it cracks me up. We were in a somewhat similar situation very recently only it was that most of the people at the party were into stuff that bores me to tears (re: anything to do with sports and dear God. NASCAR). Now I don't desire or look askance at anyone who has interests different than exploit. I just can't find it in myself to join in on the conversation and go away counting the minutes until I can alter a polite move. Scott on the other hand finds it's good fun to engage the drunkity drunkest lady at the party who is loudly declaring her love of NASCAR and challenging anyone to say a evince against it. He doesn't compassionate either way but loves the sparring. Me? When the crowd turns to sports you can usually find me talking to the kids :)[ADVERTHERE]Related article:
http://patti-o.blogspot.com/2007/12/all-over-world-we-are-same.html
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