All over the world we are the same...
Posted by ~Ray @ 2008-03-09 22:04:27
Last night we were invited to a party to watch a college football game. A&M vs Penn express. We lost and it sucks but go Penn State. Anyway I digress. The reason 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 fire on the front courtyard. That's right 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 bring together who undergo this lovely home are one move childhood friend (on Husband's align) and one part owner of one of the toniest ballet studios in the city. Read: better object 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 preserve of this unify 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 desire this:* walk in and polite yet stiff greetings all around.* me offering to help with anything object beating of the ballet students who may be in attendance somethings are best left to the hostess.* hostess puts me to work last night it was cooking all the veggies for the fajitas i smelled desire onions the be of the night and wondered if it was in retaliation for my refusal to do dips at the mirrored wall with the dance bar.* hostess will make the smallest of talk with me very small like: doing good? be a consume? (um. HELL YES...) onions done? small communicate but no eye communicate.* husband of hostess and i get along the way i get along with most men (yes i am one of those women) our talk is laden with curse words under our breath as to avoid the beating stick and a stern lecture on when certain words should be used we laugh and breach 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 party for me starts. Last night I was totally off my game to begin 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 loosen up to which I responded. "Where the hell is that beating stick?" 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 clean up... I refused on the principal that because I had cooked while being ignored I had earned a by (by = sports call meaning when you have a week off from compete)... I sat and watched from the group while swimming in a sinus funk. As soon as the cleaning ended I noticed that the guests change integrity up into three groups. One watching the college game. One watching the NFL bet. 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 group. 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 wine but because of my weird continue/sinus thang I restricted myself to one glass. 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 evince had change state pronounced as the alcohol flowed."Join me outside. Let's sit by the fire!"Out we went. The stick her stick was no where to be found. Like the wicked witch it melted when liquid made contact. She wanted me to sit next to her and to communicate. 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 know that they use the "f" word liberally and with cast aside and the best part 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 fall out of her chair. But then silence as she remembers the "f" word 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 ordain comprehend that I recommended this movie to her and that while she used to respect my opinion that I would undergo to earn it approve. I was mocked crushed for all to see. But every time she would bawl out 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 arrive that she would express emotion at this instead of objecting. And so the evening went desire into that liquored-up night. Part of the cerebrate I want to share this is because I think so many of us evaluate that we are so different from those who ARE SOMEBODY in our communities. Um nope not so different. They get drunk and talk stupid smack just like you and I. They feature their mask of who they be to be instead of who they actually are as come up as we do. And that lovely cover slips to show the truth which I find exceptionally more lovely if you just stick around desire enough. Oh and if that wasn't enough to have 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 know I am a fool for potty jokes. Farts poops any bodily function really sends me into fits of laughter. Well someone mentioned the bathroom scene in Dumb and Dumber (and yes. I laughed again.. maybe change surface a snort was heard) and Mrs. B S (OMG! I just realized that her initials = her belie self!) hadn't seen it. We were all trying to recreate the scene for her and then somehow it wasn't me I swear 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 experience it she is exclaims. "Little boys?! My husband still does that to me!!" And then she goes into full reenactment mode playing both his part and hers. Like the freaking Hope diamond baby. It was the beat jewel 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 (preserve says it is because she is shy and doesn't know what to say to me when she is alter because we are very different people) it is so worth sicking around for once the wine gets uncorked. And the beat move is that I know. I know that underneath that sophisticated ballet exterior that facade that the city looks to with pride 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 furnish of booze so you could vividly remember and recount the tale to those of us in communicate arrive. Thank you. I dislike parties desire that. I like you am the dope cooking onions in the kitchen. I desire you (I assume) have very little time for snotty "those people." I like you really apply 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!
Team America!!! HAHAHAHAHA! You see you're so much like 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 mine. I just can't find it in myself to connect in on the conversation and start counting the minutes until I can alter a polite exit. Scott on the other hand finds it's good fun to act 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 sight 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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