When I was a real drama queen trying to make it in New York City as an actress, my roommate and I would throw what we fondly referred to as “Tension Parties”. We’d invite people that we knew had living, breathing, in-your-face issues with each other, add alcohol, stir and then sit back and enjoy the show. My gathering on Saturday reminded me of those drama days …I was also reminded that I’m way too old for them.

I’m really not sure where to begin being that it’s Tuesday and I just started to feel normal (body & house) yesterday. I guess we should start with Jell-o shooters since that’s the way the party started. No, I didn’t make them. (Are you kidding me? I’m a grown up!) I asked people to “bring a snack to share” and that’s what one of the first couples to arrive came bearing. To say it all went downhill from there would be wrong but things definitely took a pointed slant.

There were about 35 people in attendance, mostly young 20 to 30-something folks from my husband’s office. My family (sisters, soon-to-be-BIL, mother and cousin) came as well to round out the shiny, happy crowd. The party began at 3pm and continued on way past the 8pm ending hour. I seem to recall the last guests leaving sometime before 1am. I went to bed hard and sore at 2am. Hard? It was a long, blistering hot day filled with lots of chitty-chat, people/issue managing and food service. Sore? Now that’s an interesting story.

You may recall a story I once told you about a couple of blondes wrestling on the floor of the Trump Plaza Casino a few years ago. Yeah, Take 3. My sister has this bug up her butt that I can only guess stems from an unavenged big sister vs. little sister hangup. This bug shows it’s sweet face when she has had a few too many and is feeling mighty. She gets this glazed over look in her eye and the next thing I know, she’s all Vision Quest on me.

This time my little sis went from throwing cookies to a full tackle. I prevailed though. I took her 29 year old ass down right in front of her fiance. Hell, she started it. The first thing she said to my mom the next morning while she was fumbling for the coffee was “Mom, remember all of those years of karate lessons you paid for? … Worthless.”

I am sore though. I’ll give her that much. But I digress. There were indeed quite a few highlights that deserve mentioning:

* Two ladies showed up in the exact same cute little sundress. Of course, there is always a chance of this happening but in this case the dress was over 5 years old and they both just happened to yank it out of the closet to wear to our house on the same day. I’m sure it didn’t help their discomfort that all afternoon my husband kept referring to them as “The Help”.

* My mother had a very interesting conversation with one of my husband’s sales guys.
It’s so funny that your name is Don Bailey.
Why?
Well, I’m dating a man with that same name.
That is funny. I guess a lot of men have that name. My father is named Don Bailey too.
Really? Does your dad live around here?
Yes, in Alexandria.
That’s where my Don lives too.
Really? Where does he work?
Chevy Chase Bank.
(After a dozen more qualifying questions)
Ummmm…I think you are dating my father.
By the end of the night my husband teasingly gave him the “If your Father hurts my Mother in law” talk and my sisters were calling him Bro. He was a wee bit uncomfortable.

* My husband took an ATV ride around midnight with one of his pals and ended up colliding with a one of the many huge rocks that the landscapers moved when they leveled part of our yard last week. I had told them to dump them in the woods. I had no idea it would happen to be on the “trail” my husband likes to ride on. He got a pretty bad boo boo on his shoulder that once developed looked like he had been branded.

* In short order, we had a grown man thrown in the pool, water gun fights, a pregnancy announcement by a couple that just got out of court, a jerk from out of town that compulsively insulted everyone, a mother who got a little too tipsy and had to sit a spell, a couple of I’m-gonna-try-and-steal-your-man pirate hoes, too much Pinot NUAWR, rain on our midnight hot tub soak and a gagging suspicion that someone(s) sneaked away and had relations in the guest bathroom. Yes, the good, the bad and the ugly as well.

And after all that, my husband and I keep rubbing our necks and saying “Damn, that was a good party.” I guess you can’t take the trash out of the white trash. Maybe next time I’ll just cut to the chase and whip up a barrel of moonshine. Jerry Springer, eat your heart out.

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