Or: Where We Learn that Ryan went to France and REALLY LIKES John Waters
Oh Game Night, how I’ve missed you. It had been nearly a year since the last one and that was just no good. Henry spent all day on Saturday cleaning and preparing delicious party dips and Janna came early to slop together some cheesy fondue. Ryan said it was too salty and that when he was in France and had fondue, they didn’t use vegetables as dunking apparatus, but rather bread (which Janna brought but had not yet found time to cut, furthering her voyage toward a psyche break). He also questioned my mothering skills and nearly assaulted me because I had a Blondie song on my play list when evidently Blondie, like John Waters, is So Obscure that he just couldn’t fathom why someone so dull and ordinary like me would know who that is. Let alone enjoy it. And he said I was really terrible at Scattergories.
He’s lucky I was showing a little restraint in front of Collin–an Erin newbie–else we’d have been dining on Ryan roast for the next few nights.
At least he didn’t fuck up the Catchphrase groove this time around.
Janna’s fondue was made with gruyere, which Janna practiced pronouncing in the car on the way to my house, and swiss cheese and liberal amounts of wine and something else in a bottle.
I’ll eat anything made from cheese and Janna was kind of like a hero to me for making it.
This particular Game Night was notable because every single person who RSVPd in the affirmative actually showed up, and those who put a “plus one” brought their plus ones. This is deemed a miracle in the party planning world. Someone slaughter me a pig, we’s gonna celebrate.
Game Night was slated to begin at 7, because I’m an idiot and didn’t consider the fact that Chooch would still be up, therefore rendering any game-playing impossible. So I pretended like I intended it that way and made a big production of telling everyone it was the Pre-Game Social. I’m apparently fixated on socials lately. Janna watched her fondue pot like a scorned woman trying to catch her husband fucking the nanny. “No one’s eating my fondue,” she’d whimper occasionally. I assured her it only seemed that way because she made enough for a fucking wedding reception. Stupid bitch.
Bill and Collin from work both came, and Bill brought his wife Natasha. I haven’t hung out with anyone I work with prior to this, so I was worried that they would think I was weird, but Henry pointed out that they probably already knew as much. I mean, they read this after all. Just so everyone knows, I obliterated Collin at both Catchphrase and Scattergories because he’s a sissy little bitch full of talk. I didn’t get to talk to Natasha much, which saddened me because Bill has told me a lot about her and I can tell she’s really cool. Hopefully, she wasn’t too put-off by my obnoxiousness and will come around again.
I got drunk.
My LJ pal Rhonda came with her roller derby friend Mel and it took me about forty-five minutes to be able to speak to her without stifling giggles because I was faux-stalking her and writing about it in my LJ and here and she read it. Let this be a cautionary tale for all of you aspiring stalkers out there: Sometimes stalking bites back. I still think she’s totally awesome and she brought this haunted house board game that I desperately wanted to play but we had too many people and those other losers didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so she stuffed it back under her seat.
I inwardly pouted about that for awhile. I hope she did too. And I hope she liked me.
I finally got to meet Kara’s boyfriend Chris who is completely fantastic and a real delight to play Catchphrase with. Kara brought a tub of pre-made cheesecake filling with a box of Teddy Grams for dipping, and everyone marveled over that for awhile. Janna was jealous that the store-bought cheesecake fluff was trumping her expensively homemade fondue. She forgot about it later when, for no reason, I punched her arm hard enough to make Ike Turner blush.
Brenna brought her friend Liz, whom I had heard (and read) a lot about. (I wish she would have brought her sex tape!) She was really cool and welcome into my house anyday, even if she is the cousin of some girl I used to play tennis with in high school who went on to cause me some dramafied problems.
Janna and I were on opposing teams, for which I was glad. I wrote that down in my diary so I’ll remember to give thanks for that next Thanksgiving. During one of her turns, she only had a chance to blurt out, “She’s a singer. Screechy in the 90s!” before the buzzer ran off and my team had a chance to steal. I screamed, “Mariah Carey!” and because my body is molded from Awesome Molecules, we won the point. Oh, and the game. Like, three times in a row. It was nearly as historical as last year, when all Henry said was, “Singer” and I hysterically yelled, “Carly Simon!”
And it was Carly Simon. Awesome who? What?
Ryan got “Pink Flamingos” as his Catchphrase word (oh, yay) and was so shocked when some actually guessed it. Um, my GRANDMA knows that movie. He ran around being obnoxious about that for awhile, so I went outside and had a cigarette.
I was so happy, reveling in all the winning, when I overheard Kara say she’s moving to DC next month. I was so horrified that I had to make her repeat it. “No, you dumb bitch!” I cried. I felt so betrayed. Everyone else was congratulating her and didn’t seem to really care, because it’s only Kara after all, and maybe it was all the Woodchuck raping my emotions, but I really felt like I could have died right then. She swore that she’ll be back often to visit, but that’s what they all say.
We’ll always have Phipps, Kara. And the Eat n Park waitress who looked like Gerard Way.
You’re still a dumb bitch, though.
Bill made a delicious cake which was borne from a barrel of bourbon. And it was slathered liberally with a creamy frosting also drenched in bourbon. I fed some to my child, because I’m an irresponsible asshole of a mother. I hope Bill doesn’t know that I only invited him for his baked goods.
My little bro Corey arrived late and had to eat his slice of cake with a spatula because there were no forks left and I wasn’t in dish-washing mode.
The bulk of the crowd left around 11, leaving Henry, Janna, Ryan, Corey, Collin and I with the prime opportunity to play Scattergories. It should be made known publicly somewhere that I’m a Scattergories Supremacist. You know how when someone gets a DUI, a public blurb goes in the paper? Something like that so that everyone in my community (and soon the world) will know how impossible I am to defeat. Sure, people try to thumbs-down some of my answers, like Hyacinth Hallway as a road, but that’s because they’re sheltered and don’t know that I walked, nay — frolicked, down that very same road in Holland. After picking a bushel of tulips near a windmill. And smoking a fattie.
I won that game too, thanks to knowing that torpedo-touching is a hobby.
Then I had to go to work yesterday and I was kind of afraid that Bill and Collin would be all, “Ew, get away from us with your game cooties, you fucking freak” especially after I kicked Collin and hurled a box at him, but thankfully he doesn’t remember that part. (At least I didn’t hide his Hot Pockets.) They seemed to still like me. Or tolerate me, at least.