Can’t Repeat the Past? Why, Of Course You Can… With a Badass Theme Party
February 25, 2013 § 25 Comments
Is anyone else counting the days until The Great Gatsby movie comes out? Have you watched these trailers 40 billion times?
No? Just me, then? OK.
One of the reasons I’m so excited for this Baz Luhrmann flick is that it just LOOKS so good. Visually, I mean. Beautiful people in beautiful outfits walking around in beautiful settings, all vintage-fabulous. Plus, it’s got that nerd-cachet, what with being an adaptation of a great book. Very much my cup of tea. Or glass of prohibition-era moonshine, as it were.
Anyway, what I hope most of all is that someone will have an over-the-top Great Gatsby party to celebrate the premiere and invite me. Because if there’s one thing I love, it’s a bygone-era theme party. Also, I really want to turn around and go, “Gatsby? What Gatsby?” every time someone walks into the party.
A few years ago, to celebrate the start of the third season of Mad Men, we hosted a Mad Men party (yeah, us and every other household in America, whatever). It was, if I may say so, legendary — as were the hangovers that followed it. From the bar to the food to the music to the behavior (the hundreds of Parliaments masquerading as Lucky Strikes in my mother’s antique silver cigarette boxes were supposed to be props, but tell that to a bunch of drunk Don Drapers) … it was the party to shame all parties we’d ever had before. And the outfits – oh my word, the outfits.
^ I wanted to recreate that scene for the party, but I ultimately decided against it, because (a) guns at a party, and (b) filmy peignoir set in public.
We haven’t had a Downton Abbey party, but only because we just finished watching seasons one through three last week. Give us time.
Honestly, although Lady Mary always looks to-die, I’ll probably dress as one of the maids, because I really like those little caps and aprons. Plus the maids have better props, and I’m partial to a get-up with props, if you know what I mean… which is that I like to carry a tea tray.
Now, to be honest, not every attempt at theme-dressing has been such a smashing success. When my husband and I moved into our first house, we were a good bit younger than all the responsible, child-rearing adult neighbors around us and didn’t know a soul. So we were tickled to be invited to join the neighborhood supper club. As we understood it, the group met every other month at someone’s house for dinner, and there was always a theme. A THEME!
So, fast-forward a few weeks. Our first supper club invitation arrived in our mailbox: Please join your neighbors for dinner this Saturday evening. And dress accordingly… it’s a Disco Inferno.
![DISCO INFERNO! [Cue me, hyperventilating with excitement.]](http://imissyouwheniblink.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/discoball.jpg)
DISCO INFERNO! [Cue me, hyperventilating with excitement.]
Night of the party: We made our way up the driveway of the party house. (The neighbors are going to love us, aren’t they? Oh, they totally are.)
We rang the doorbell.
A man answered the door.
The man stared us up and down. “You must be the new neighbors,” he said.
We looked at him, in his khakis and polo shirt, then looked past him, to the living room where EVERYONE WAS IN SWEATER SETS AND BUTTON-DOWN SHIRTS LIKE IT WAS JUST A NORMAL FUCKING DAY.
So, yeah. Unspoken rule of supper club? Nobody ever dressed up.
Except us that one time. Because when we embarrass ourselves, we do it UP. Go big or go home.
Anyway. That’s one reason I’m super excited for the Gatsby movie. I am already planning the outfit. I just need the party.
(See? I have always loved a theme party. I don’t know what the occasion was here, other than my mom and my aunts thinking it would be funny to doll me up in someone’s slinky dancing dress and pose me in front of the piano like I’m a lounge act, but this is the first recorded evidence I have of me in theme-wear.)
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On a completely unrelated note, for those of you who are into the penguins: The Random Penguins Shop is now open on Etsy. Get your birds on paper! There are currently 10 varieties of notecards available — as well as multi-packs of stationery, which make a nice little gift for your weirder friends — with more possibly to be added in the future.
Stocking Stuffers
December 24, 2012 § 7 Comments
Ho Ho Ho… I’m not spending a bunch of time in front of a computer this week. (Because Christmas is family time. And also because I’ve got to cook a disturbingly expensive piece of meat today; and I once learned an important lesson about kitchen multi-tasking when I blew up a chicken because I was so enthralled watching baby goat videos on YouTube that I didn’t hear the oven timer. Cooking + Computer = Disaster)
So anyway, back to the desk next week. Until then, here are a few happy little holiday things:
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I don’t know about you, but I’ve now watched this movie three times since the beginning of December. I plan to watch it at least two more before January.
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I’m hooked on this song right now. I love the tune; I love the lyrics (“Let your heart hold fast / For this soon shall pass”); I even love the video and the little beating heart at the end. This is the perfect song for when you’re tired or frustrated or just indulging in some general malaise, and then you realize you’re kind of wallowing and you need to perk the hell up. Put this on full volume and pull yourself out of it:
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And finally, may the new year bring you something that makes you as happy as bathtime makes this dog:
Have a glass of something bubbly; give someone a present; don’t eat mistletoe. Merry Christmas!
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(PS: Penguins still arriving every weekday, here.)
How to Talk About the Debate Without Getting Punched
October 12, 2012 § 16 Comments
Debates are stressful. Oh, not being in a debate. That’s easy. You just get into your zone and make crazy eyes and say, “If I may,” and “Let’s back up for a moment,” and “Shut your piehole, monkeyass,” a lot. I mean stressful to watch. Here’s why:
- Debates are fighting. I don’t like fighting – doing it, watching it, hearing it. Conflict makes me want to knock over my wine glass or tell a stupid joke or vomit into my own lap just to distract everyone from their squabbling.
- As a speechwriter, I get nervous when speakers go off script, which of course they’re supposed to do in a debate. But I can’t stop stage-whispering at the TV, “Say it like you practiced. Say it like you practiced. SAY IT LIKE YOU PRACTICED.” No one around me finds that at all annoying, though; so it’s cool.
- Doesn’t the building tension during a debate make you expect some awesomely disastrous movie-like turn of events? I keep waiting for someone to slap someone else; a podium to burst into flames; a dinosaur foot to come down from the ceiling. But it never happens. Disappointing.
Anyway. I know it’s every citizen’s duty to be an informed voter. (America!) So I watch. But I keep one eye on Twitter at the same time for distraction. The problem is that people on Twitter can get just as amped up as the candidates themselves, so if you’re not careful whom you follow or comment on, you could end up getting dragged into a brawl or having an anxiety attack about all the fighting. Yes, even just talking about a debate can be stressful.
Last night, I discovered another person trying to keep it light. Novelist Lydia Netzer joined in the Twitter debate chatter while avoiding controversy entirely, posting under the hashtag #neutraldebatecommentary. If you want to make small talk during election season without getting hit in the face, just follow Lydia’s lead. Here’s our exchange:
Pretty easy. Stick to wardrobe, personal grooming, and decor. Meanwhile, just in case you get drawn into the fray, practice your debate skills:
The Loneliness of Football Season
September 11, 2012 § 32 Comments
I am afraid to say this out loud, so I’m whispering it to the Internet: I don’t like football.
Well, that came out wrong. I don’t mean I actively dislike football; I mean I fail to love football in the way that everyone around me does.
Where I live, everyone loves football, even the ladies. But not me. (I wish I did, so I could join in on the fun; but looking back, I realize there was probably never any hope. First of all, I come from a long line of nerds. We are not an athletic people. Second, I moved around a lot growing up, so I have no geographical/team allegiances. Third, I somehow managed to avoid going to a big football school my entire life.) I just never developed the football sense.
Being a non-football-fan in football country is a bummer sometimes. The upcoming game is the #1 topic of conversation at social gatherings in the fall… when social gatherings can even happen, that is. Trying to make plans with friends for fall weekends gets dicey, because a GAME COULD BE ON. Face-to-face human interactions are suddenly trumped by televised sports, which absolutely must be seen in real time. I have witnessed this exact conversation:
I’m not kidding. You can’t kid about football. Trust me on that. If you call someone’s fantasy football league their “imaginary football” league, they will not laugh. Even though if you think about it, it’s pretty funny that there’s a whole world of made-up football being played, fictionally, by nonexistent players who have the same names and stats of actual people over here in the universe known as reality.
There are lots of aspects of football season that I do like – wearing sweaters, carrying flasks, eating meat cooked in a parking lot. I also enjoy doing cheerleader impressions. (Ask me about my most requested cheer: “Wheels are for truckers, scams are for suckers, we think your team’s a bunch of…”) Unfortunately, there’s just so much of it I can’t relate to.
Anyway. I hate being left out, and I don’t want to stay home by myself while everyone else is having fun. So please, invite me over to watch the game. I’ll behave. In fact, I would be immensely grateful if you could help me behave even better.
How To Help a Non-Fan Enjoy a Football Game:
- Show me where to sit. One time I sat on the wrong side of the bar. HO-LY shit. Bad move. Look, I’m not trying to express my loyalties one way or the other – I just don’t know which cheering section is “ours.” So point me in the right direction. The great news is, I totally don’t care whether I can see the TV, so you can give me the seat no one else wants.
- Assign me some food to bring. In fact, put me on cocktail waitress duty for the game. I like assembling trays of snacks and walking around and refilling drinks, and that gives me an excuse to get up. See, I can be useful!
- Shoot me a few signals. I don’t know the difference between good news and bad news; I only know the announcer is screaming. Is this a “YEAH!” moment or a “NOOO!” moment? I’ll do what you do.
- Help me translate football minutes into real minutes. I know that when it says “2:43” left in the game, it’s not really two minutes and forty-three seconds. But I don’t really understand how long it is. Every minute in football time feels like an hour to me. So break it down in terms I can understand: “You have time to have two more beers.” Or: “The game will be over after you pick seven more threads out of the sofa cushion.” Or: “You can get in your car, go commit a crime on the empty streets, come back, and no one will know you were even gone, because there’s that much game still left.”
- Give me your wifi password.
- Do you have any magazines?
Gooooo, team!
UPDATE: You can also find this article syndicated on TheFootballGirl.com — a Forbes “Best Website,” created by a female ESPN producer to give chicks (and dudes) who love the NFL a place for nonstop jock-talk. Check it out!
Save BFF
May 3, 2012 § 3 Comments
Watchers of reality television, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. We all have our vices. (I eat bacon like it’s the new superfruit.) I try not to judge. But I need to say this:
Reality TV is a parade of horrors. Have you heard Clay Aiken and Donald Trump have a conversation? I stumbled across that once, and it made me weep for humanity.
That’s why, aside from a few shows I record each week, I don’t often flip around looking for things to watch.
So it was a stroke of blind luck that I landed on NBC’s new show, Best Friends Forever, at the start of its first episode this spring. If you haven’t seen it – and chances are, you haven’t, because NBC put it in an oddball time slot and didn’t promote it much – here’s the premise: Two gals, best friends separated by distance, are reunited when Jessica gets divorced and returns from California to New York, where she moves back in with her bff, Lennon (and Lennon’s fiancé). Wackiness ensues.
It’s not the plot that got me so much as the friendship at the show’s core. Put me in front of an episode of any cop show or medical show or law show, and I couldn’t tell you what the trauma was or who the killer is or why everybody’s whispering like that, but I’ll remember which detectives/doctors/lawyers were buddies and how they busted each other’s balls all in fun. I’m a sucker for banter.
Jessica St. Clair and Lennon Parham are best friends in real life, just like the characters they named for themselves. They met in comedy boot camp at Upright Citizens Brigade, which explains a lot about how easily they play off one another, and their chemistry shows. The dialogue bubbles with real-girlfriend sweetness and insanity.
Exhibit A:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/352401/best-friends-forever-protect-the-areolas
Exhibit B:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/349478/best-friends-forever-all-hands-on-deck
Yes, they’re still getting the hang of the show-writing process (interesting article about that here). And it feels like maybe they’re still figuring out exactly what to do with the supporting cast. (The fiancé isn’t exactly crackling with personality, and a little dose of Queenetta, the sassy 9-year-old on the block, goes a long way.) It’s not perfect. Maybe I just love the story of their story – real friends who cooked up a show about their own relationship and managed to get it on the air – but I was rooting for them to work out the kinks and make it. Alas, as of now, the show has been suspended.
Anyway, there’s a petition to get it started back up. And by golly, I’m so not a petition-signer, but I signed the damn thing. I’m not saying it’s the greatest show ever made — who knows how it’ll do if it survives — but geez. If NBC can give the Biggest Losers an entire season to shed their pounds, couldn’t we have given these girls a few weeks to get their sea legs? Plenty of other shows have had shaky but promising starts and gone on to be rock solid. There’s real creative thought going on here. It’d be nice to give it a shot.
Real friendship between smart, funny people is fun to witness. That’s as close to reality TV as I want to get.
Please, sweetbabyjesus, let’s let good writers and comedians
have a chance to show us what they’ve got.
