Party faux pas

That rascalee guy, John Scalzi, has called for this:  Weekend Assignment #44: Recollect for all a humorous story of a party gone wrong. Well, back in the days of undergrad school, my roommates and I had a spectacular idea.  Once or twice a semester, we would host a semi-casual party-dinner.  This gave us all a chance to take a break from the samo samo grungee days and wear.  We all had those nice outfits that were too dressy to be worn to class, to a bar, or even out for a dinner.  So, we decided to give our place and friends a little pizzazz and spice up the semester, too.

The way it worked was like this:  there were three of us; so one would do the hor d'ourves or salad or antipasto, another would do the appropriate entre, and the third would whip up some fabulously decadent dessert.  We would ask that everyone bring whatever they wanted to drink.  Usually, most folks would leave the open bottle and it would join our stock for the next party.

It was a great way to have fun, meet some new folks, and not get too crazy.  We thought we were mature and tasteful.  Most of the time, I think, we were.

But, our last semester together was very odd.  Nothing went right.  Sometimes that was ok, because it was more fun.  Our oldest roomie was graduating and we were very sad to see her go.  The following semester, the other roomie would graduate.  I was the youngest and the last to graduate.  But that was to be our last semester together, and the last semester any of us would be in that rickety apartment.  So it was with bitter-sweetness that we hosted our last gala.

First off, one guest arrived way way too early.  I answered the door while still flossing my teeth.  It turned out that he was the secret heartthrob of one of my roomies.  She was mortified when she came into the livingroom, heading to the bedroom, still wrapped in her mickey mouse robe with matching slippers.  Our third roomie had her head on straight and was presentable, so she took over and lead him out to the kitchen so we could scurry into the bedroom and finish preparing ourselves.

There is a reason I do NOT wear white.  Especially white skirts or pants.  But, my ex-boyfriend had given me this really cute denim mini-skirt that was white.  I'd finally lost enough weight to wear it well, and I did not want to pass up the opportunity to wear it.  So, there I am looking all cute and all curvee in my pink satin shell and white mini; hair all punked up and dangly earrings.

There had been a major miscommunication about the dinner duties.  I made the salad.  But no body made the entre.  We had two really wonderful desserts with lots of creamy chocolate.  Most everyone was having a great time, anyway.  We ordered a sub up so there was some actual food to munch on.

Someone had found a great radio station and there was a little dancing.  I met some very funny folks that were making me laugh non-stop (glad I flossed, cuz the ole pearlees were visible all the way back to the tonsils).  I was afraid to indulge in the desserts until after everyone left and I was outta my delicately hued outfit.

THAT'S why I had the jelly-bean in my mouth.  It was black, cuz I love licorice.  I had thought I was safe, though.  WRONG!!

Just as I was about to swallow the chewed-up black juicee mess, I laughed in response to the Funny Folks mentioned earlier.  I bent slightly and turned away, but there was another group of people right behind me and I was by this time laughing at the situation and trying not to choke, so instead I was hurking in this so unattractive way.

Tears were streaming down my red face, as I thought, "I am gonna die laughing" and laughed even harder.  Well, the worst part was that all the attention was now focused on me and I am not graceful by any means.  Let alone, when I am spazzing from hysterical guffaws.

My roommate grabbed ahold of my hand that was over my lower face, and pulled it away.  She looked shocked.  The other roommate gasped and grabbed some napkins from the table and rushed over, screaming, "tilt your head back!" at me.

I did.  But, while they thought my nose was bleeding and that I was choking from that....THIS IS GROSS:  I actually had passed the black jelly-bean thru my nose.  eeeeeeewwwww.  But at the time, all I could think was, 'omg, this feels so George Carlinesque'.

Later, I realized that I sprayed black juice all over myself, my pink satin shell, my white mine, and a bit of the nearby wall.  I might have even gotten some innocent bystanders involved.  That was our last party.

It would have been the last, anyway. I liketo tell myself that.