Fete Fatale
By Diana Grove
Occasionally we all need to let off a little steam and take a break from the daily grind, and having a party is often the first thing that comes to mind. But throwing a party is a lot like giving birth; you really should be out of town for the actual event.
However, if you do find yourself seriously contemplating a bash one of the initial things you should consider is TO NOT DO IT!
Because parties are never as much fun as they’re supposed to be. Unless you wake up the next morning so hung over you can’t really remember anything, then, theoretically you could have had a good time. But chances are you just goosed your best friend’s date and vomited in the chip bowl.
If you feel you absolutely must succumb to the fickle whims of party throwing, whether to pacify restless friends or simply to get rid of all that extra potato salad, there are a few simple guidelines that should be followed. Namely, who to invite.
For starters, it’s best to invite just about everyone you’ve ever met in the past 10 years, because no matter how cool you are only about 2% of these people will actually show up. And when they do, you can bet money they won’t bring any good beer. Also, I like to invite at least two people who can’t stand each other, because what’s life without flying whisky bottles, catfights and a little scar tissue?
When one of them hurls an ashtray or starts clawing the air you can magnanimously step in and tell them both to “either shape up, or go throw their ashtrays outside!” This will make you look like a hero to the other party guests and who knows, maybe it’ll win the affections of the mildly attractive drunk standing in the corner admiring your collection of antique fruit reamers.
A party can get out of control immediately if the perfect assortment of people aren’t hand picked for attendance. For instance, under no circumstances should you invite anyone who feels they can’t leave work at the workplace.
This usually includes: insurance salesmen, appliance salesmen, used car salesmen, aluminum siding salesmen, carpet salesmen, funeral plot salesmen, furniture salesmen, Bible salesmen, cork-pull salesmen and lobbyists.
Unfortunately, this usually leaves you with a room full of elementary school teachers, unemployed philosophers and Japanese haikuists. This is still better than being pressed up against a wall all night hearing about the “undeniable benefits of a complete cement internment.” Besides, if you’ve had enough vodka, a haiku about precipitation can be quite moving, either emotionally (inspiring real tears) or physically (inspiring you to move to another room.)
If you’re throwing a theme party, decorations are absolutely essential. Horns and funny hats are Ok in a pinch, but if you’re really going to do it up right, you should plan ahead and spend the extra money on a few decorative doo-dads.
And do try to get your guests to participate. Just make sure you get the details on the invitations right. I once threw a Spanish Inquisition party where everyone was instructed to bring their favorite winch. Unfortunately, several guests misunderstood, and instead brought their favorite wench. It actually turned out Ok, because the wenches brought extra bean dip and were very good about using coasters.
Theme parties can require a lot of planning, and don’t make the mistake of skimping on the party props. If you’re going to stage a Civil War re-enactment in the backyard it would look pretty shabby without a few strategically placed gattling guns, some hospital tents (complete with limb-removal saws) and a buffet of hard tack. Three or four second-tier friends may need to be sacrificed as war casualties. And if they’re true friends, they should understand the Civil War wasn’t won without a little bloodshed, treason and someone’s swishy brother dressed up as Florence Nightingale.
It also wasn’t won without plenty of lemonade and mint juleps – which, by the way, you can never have too much of. If you don’t have any mint try not to worry, the julep part is what everybody’s after anyway. There’s really no better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than seeing grown men drunk on whisky bayoneting each other under the shade of a Catalpa tree.
With this in mind, more than anything else refreshments can make or break a party. This is due to the fact that Man cannot have an enjoyable time co-mingling with his fellow human beings without being absolutely and unashamedly tanked. Therefore, I recommend serving bathtub bourbon.
Exactly what bathtub bourbon is I’m not sure - I can never remember. I do know that somehow a bathtub is involved, and it has the benefit of both looking good in a plastic cup and being a total mind eraser. This comes in handy when you spill some down the front of your shirt and run around the party thinking you’ve been shot with a dueling pistol.
After drinking this concoction the next morning’s memories tend to be forgivingly vague. Use your best judgement on the strength of the mix, just make sure it contains plenty of hard liquor and something red to hide the grimy tub ring.
As far as food is concerned, hors d’ouvres are always a tough call. Personally, I like to open a bag of chips and call it a night. Yet I realize in this gourmet, food-conscious world one might want to serve something a bit more fancy… like popcorn, salted nuts or melon balls.
I tend to discourage this simply because these foods are highly aerodynamic and unless you want to spend the next several weeks picking nuts out of the air vents, you’re better off with air-foil duds like Jays or Pringles.
Finger sandwiches can be elegant as long as they’re not made of bologna, peanut butter…or real fingers. Deviled eggs are often a big hit, but they can be as slippery as a greased weasel on an ice patch. Cocktail wieners are novel if you can figure out how to open that tiny can without using your teeth.
What I usually do when it comes to party food is just slosh my beer around and exclaim rather loudly “Food? Hey, what do you think this is, a God damned Shriner’s picnic?!” This usually separates the wheat from the chaff guest wise. In other words, the wheat goes elsewhere and the chaff is pathetic enough to stick around in case anything fun should start happening, like Parcheesi or “Find the Mole.”
If your guests have resigned themselves to eating tiny little wieners and drinking swill out of the bathtub the least you can do is reward them with some decent music.
Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have any. At least that’s what people keep telling me. I, however, refuse to believe that the hit single "I’m Using My Bible for a Roadmap" by the legendary duo Reno and Smiley will clear a room in under 30 seconds. Nor do I believe that only the most diehard polka fans appreciate the double album of Captain Stubby and the Buccaneers. People need to be introduced to a certain degree of culture from time to time, and for this I feel my parties are the perfect venue. I will not be dissuaded by a few soreheads who roll their eyes, gulp their drinks and leave the party early in search of people actually laughing and having a good time.
My parties are meant to be civil gatherings of quiet contemplation mixed with a little free-form square dance and maybe a frank discussion on whittling. Wonton merrymaking and tomfoolery should be left at home where it belongs.
This kind of radical thought is bound to get folks talking, which brings us to the very heart and soul of a good party – lively conversation.
A party without decent conversation is like a funeral without tuna casserole – it’s unnatural and leads to a lot of needless weeping. If there’s an awkward silence in the room, the party may need to be peppered with a variety of universal topics, which to my mind usually include:
- mitten knitting
- the pros and cons of running with sharp objects
- the glory days of contract killing, and other cool jobs that require
piano wire
- muck farming
- muckraking, and how it differs from muck farming
- how to get a hot dish to the Methodist potluck without it
mysteriously disappearing into the river.
- a thorough discussion on eczema and other skin disorders that
are kinda’ tricky to spell.
- and…what’s better, circles or squares?
After all of the party conversation and good times have gradually subsided (or, in my case have probably not even begun) it’s finally time to call it quits and clean up. And if your guests are anything like mine, the reference librarians you invited will probably have coated the lampshades with not just guacamole but Crisco as well.
There’s no denying it, cleaning up after a party is not an easy task, that’s why most frat houses are simply burned to the ground. My all time favorite approach to scouring a party site is to mix up a big vat of either bleach or ammonia (or both bleach and ammonia) and attempt to hose the place down before I:
A. burn all my nose hairs clean off.
B. create a small mushroom cloud that would make Robert
Oppenheimer proud.
C. alter the weather patterns of not only my neighborhood, but
also the neighborhoods of both Pinsk and Minsk.
D. die prematurely and never have to throw another God
forsaken party.
