I really don’t want to jump on the bandwagon and complain about how at (almost) 25, I am starting to feel the slow descent to death. Honestly, I even think those in their 50s are whining prematurely. It’s okay to feel older, but let’s be clear: it’s going to get worse. Yes, I agree, it is completely impossible to not get nostalgic about the ‘good old days’ when a hangover could be cured with some greasy food and you could shop for hours on end without feeling like someone has beaten you up with a bag of oranges – but give it ten years and you will scoff at the present you with all your current age-related complaints.
So despite what I just said, I’m going to be a total hypocrite and ask: since when did hangovers last so long? Today is Wednesday, and I still feel rough from my overindulgence of beer on Saturday night. This may be in part answered by the fact that I’ve not had a lie in for quite some time. I still get almost 8 hours every night, but maybe I need more now? This can be partly answered by the fact that they show back to back CSI episodes (and other similar programs which convey murderers to be artistic and cunning geniuses) at night, and there is no advert break between the different episodes. This means that as soon as you finish one, you’re sucked right into the next episode and you have to commit to the full hour otherwise you’ll never know how the sexy cheerleader was murdered with a stick of gum, a horny hamster and a cabbage. Further, I have recently been taking quite a long time to fall asleep because I’m dancing in my head. It sounds really strange, right? But in my head, I’m going through all these highland dances (not random, it is actually something I take a class in once a week) and I can’t switch my brain onto anything else. My feet twitch along and might be a little pointed, but other than that there really is absolutely no movement. Yes… insomnia (total exaggeration, but I’m aiming for dramatic here) caused by mental highland dancing.
Anyway, let’s get onto the topic of hosting parties. This is the second party I have ever hosted. The first one I tried to host was only for 3 of my friends but I was trying to make it a really amazing thing. I had gotten a whole range of spirits and liqueurs in with the notion that we were going to make our own cocktails and stuff. Yes, I had invested a lot into this. Funnily enough, since then one has completely stopped talking to me and blocked me on Facebook (I could spend a whole post arguing about how it’s not my fault… but I honestly don’t care), one I have absolutely no contact with except the very occasional ‘like’, and one that I do still consider a friend but she has such a hectic life that we actually have little or no contact at all. In conclusion, one cancelled at an appropriate time (i.e. she let me know at least a week before hand) and the other two cancelled ON THE DAY. I hate it when people cancel last minute, particularly if you only have plans one on one. It ruins my whole day. I’m not someone with many social plans, so I look forward to small and non-significant (in the grand scheme of things) events. My history as party host was not good.
I decided to throw a house warming after a little peer pressure from my new colleagues. Plus, they had been so nice to me and made such a big amount of effort to try and include me in everything, that I thought that I would quite like to give them a good party. Via Facebook, I invited about 24 people who consisted of colleagues, highland dancers and my two lovely house mates. My mum panicked when she heard that I had posted the event on Facebook. Obviously, she was plagued with memories of newspaper articles were online party invites attracted thousands of strangers to some sixteen year old’s house party whose parents were out of town. Most people didn’t answer the Facebook invite… which didn’t seem to matter anyway, because half of those who said they were coming, didn’t, and half of those who didn’t reply, did come. Including my housemates, about 10 people came. Turned out to be ideal, because I ran out of seats. Because I had a stressful day of going back and forth between the supermarket trying to balance as much as I could on my bike (4 friggin trips!), I had started on a beer quite early. This meant that in the first 3 hours of the party where there was an odd mix of highland dancers and work colleagues (bless them all, they did try to seem enthusiastic about each other), I could do nothing but sit there and laugh to myself. I say “to myself”, but I was actually sat there with a huge smile on my face during the numerous awkward silences. Have you noticed how during such awkward silences in a group, people pretend to actively look around and avoid each other’s eyes? It’s also an impossible task when you’re in a large group; ten pairs of roaming eyes… you’re going to catch someone’s eyes at some point. Have I said the word eyes too much? Anyway, thankfully my housemate (to whom I had drunkenly told that the party was a complete and utter failure) tried to stimulate a bit of conversation. Then the dancers left, and things got a bit easier as there was only one group left who all knew each other. The party went on till about 3, which I took to be a sign of a good party. I have over half the amount of alcohol left. I was actually tired before midnight from my hectic day of last minute preparations, but felt rather flattered that people wanted to stay so late. Also, I had succeeded in not being the most drunk and not making the biggest ass out of myself. Even if I did loudly introduce everyone to my penis, before pulling out a novelty bottle opener.
I never have as much fun at my own parties (yes, all two of them – one of which I was the only guest) than I do at others. I absolutely hate playing the host, and I’m happiest when people just help themselves to whatever they want. Also, I hate the awkward pauses… and you know that it’s your responsibility as host to come up with a suitable and exciting topic. I brought up the topic about accidentally liking someone’s (who I had never actually been friends with, as she was part of the “inner ring” at school) status about someone having cancer. For some reason, this lead to an even awkwarder pause. I’m still not sure why it was an unsuitable comment to make… I thought it was rather amusing. But note to self: nobody wants to talk about Cancer at a party… particularly if it comes from a rather tipsy host who keeps smiling broadly during the silent spells.
Anyway, I’ve decided in future not to host parties. Instead, I’ll just set up a tab at the bar.
Love LonBonBon
