(Democratic) Party On.

I am still waiting for the arrival of the Wisconsin Dems. What do I have to do, hang a sign outside my door? I am a little bit offended, truth be told. I have Febreezed my living room, unloaded the dishwasher, taken my bite guard out of the bathroom sink and gone to Trader Joe's in case they want to nosh. In my book, a person cannot do more in terms of being hospitable.  

As you may notice, this is highly unusual behavior for me. I generally put all my efforts into keeping people from visiting me, including not fixing the potholes in my driveway and "forgetting" to take down the signs on the front door that warn we are radioactive inside. I have gone so far once or twice as to pull the electrical wires out of my doorbell with my bare hands when I've heard of a possible visit from a friend.

Once I actually belly-crawled to my bedroom (so as not to be seen through the windows) to tear off my pajamas and jump into real clothes when I saw a particular car pull up to my house, just so I could meet the person at the front door and claim I was late for work.

Which was not a well-thought out lie, since I don't actually have a real office to go to, and in my panic and cluelessness, I chose a ridiculously stereotyped work outfit, complete with nylon stockings, shoulder pads and, I don't remember, a necktie around my forehead, Ninja-style. I also belly-crawled to the bathroom and applied about twelve tons of makeup to my sweaty face (it was August and I was wearing nylons and a suit. And crawling around my house). The end result was that I looked like Divine. On her way to St. Elmo's Fire.

"Um, don't you work, like, in a preschool?" my friend asked when I answered the door, my car keys in hand.

I mumbled vague, distracting keywords like, "conferences" and "epidemic" as I ran away. I'm pretty sure I pulled it off.

So you can imagine how much I want to fuck over Scott Walker. I am willing - no, make that inviting - the Wisconsin Dems to stay at my house. Although I may have to go to "work" one or two of the days they are here. It's just for one or two days, right? Oh fuck, are they going to be hanging around the house all day? Maybe I can send them out to see the sights for a few hours, just so I can get some time alone.

Now I just don't know.

I am writing this post on the morning that I have invited friends to dinner. I know. I am complicated. Deal with it.

I am not regretting the invitation, per se, as much as I am quietly bemoaning the time I will have to devote to preparation and execution. As you know, I am writing a novel and taking an entire day to clean and cook for dinner guests is a day that I will not be able to get serious work done on improving my Pathwords score and staring at the liver spots on my hands, wondering whether or not the Esoterica cream is working.

Am I worried my friends will read this post and feel bad that they are ruining my Saturday night and possibly, my entire life? Well, the first thing is that in our family we always say, "the important thing is that you feel bad." So, no, I am not worried.

Second of all, they don't read the blog. I don't even think they know I have one. You see, they are highly involved, creative, intelligent people who have lives. Freddy runs an organization (Teachers Without Borders, www.teacherswithoutborders.com) that does nothing less than save the world every single day, whereas I have a job that does nothing less than get me through a large, Costco-size bag of Ranch flavored rice cakes every single day. Rosalie heals children.

I know, what the hell are we going to have in common to talk about?

Oh, I know. We can talk about how much Freddy hates fish. He says he's allergic, but he's not fooling anyone. And we can talk about how when Freddy was young, he used to ask his mom to put her elbow in his eye, for comfort. His eye was closed, but it's still weird, right? He called it "Elbow In Eye."

Okay, I've got the conversation topic for appetizers. And if we drink enough during appetizers, dinner conversation will just be the sound of our heads hitting the dining room table. Perfect. I love entertaining.

Shit. Wait. What if the Wisconsin Dems show up tonight? I have carefully meted out the grilled eggplant and cous-cous portions for just the four of us.

Fine. Back to Trader Joe's.  What I won't do for the Revolution.

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Lunaea]

When I get to Portland, you can invite me over for dinner and tell me to pick up the takeout on my way over. You can even call in the order yourself; I'll pay. You can wear your jammies -- I'll wear my Harry Potter nightgown and pray I don't get pulled over on the way.

[Madge]

Ann, what is your novel about? I hope it is a disguised autobiography of your life in the words of another person. You are the renaissance woman to me. Able to leap tall buildings and save the Democrats. Have fun tonight. I am sure the dinner will be perfect as you are making it. Ann I believe, you are really talented and just try to fool all of us who don't see you in person.