you can promise all the accutrements in the world. what they really want is for me to host the damn thing.
"absolutely, not," i say.
there isn't a vaccum cleaner powerful enough, a version of 409 potent enough, an elbow greasy enough for me to clean my apartment to wine party standards. and its not like either of these receive mail at a yurt and are showering in the bathroom at walmart. they have homes.
"i guess i can have it," bubbles sighs. "i'll have to clean."
by all means, clean, young bubbles. its a lot more convenient than each of us getting tetanus shots and then afterbarring in a chemical bath just for a few hours of "fun" at my place.
i never get excited about a wine and cheese party. this is residual from the wine and cheese parties of yesteryear, when the girl posse decided that they didn't want me swilling natty light out of stemmed glass and topping gourmet crackers with individually wrapped packets of american cheese. [these, by the way, taste much better when you rub them against your leg to bring them closer to room temperature. trust me]. in those days i would belly up to the bar with the boys and tell them all about how i didn't want to go to that dumb ole fem con wine party anyway. i slurred with such conviction that, to this day, i still believe that.
i always enjoy wine parties, once i'm there and about two glasses of red and one stained tongue deep. getting there is the struggle. and when i picked up jcrew last night, she seemed to share my disdain for all things fermented and grapey. we tried to out-dour the other, with dueling sighs and eye rolls.
for me, this had nothing to do with anything. i like the host and the other invited guests. i like wine. i like cheese. i do not like knowing on a tuesday that i have plans to drink on saturday. i would prefer to live my life and accidentally stumble upon a wine party that is not in my living room on a saturday. as with most things i have to do -- even the fun ones -- i spend the rest of the week resenting this event. right up until the moment my blood starts carting the alcohol toward my major organs. then i start wishing that every second of everyday was one giant wine night.
and as for jcrew, the eye rolling is as involuntary as the "what?!" when you look at her wrong.
it was fun. i can't lie. a perfect mix of silly conversation, a really creamy brie, and jcrew's new friendship with a porchful of skateboarders, all while no one watched a baseball game on the tv in the background. chuck and i left around 2 a.m., quickly, while jcrew spat insults at us as we sprinted out the door. this is how you say "goodbye" after a night of drinking, in her language.
about an hour later my phone rang, and it was my little friend on the phone.
in her most polite voice, jcrew said: "hello. i'd like a cab, please, to [blank-oh-blank blank blank ]street?"
"what?" i said.
"i'd like a cab, please?" she said again.
"jcrew, it's me," i said.
"excuse me?" she said, still polite and serene.
"it's me, not a cab company," i told her.
she said something naughty and hung up on me. as if i had stolen a cabbie's phone and then had the audacity to answer it when she called. the nerve.