My friend Wendy is a Stella & Dot stylist and I’ve been promising her for awhile now that I would host a trunk show. (I keep wanting to call it a “party,” but this is 2014 and one does not call these things “parties” anyway; duh Erin Kelly!) I finally took the plunge and told Wendy to sign me up last month and apparently when Henry found out what I had done, he texted Wendy a simple “thanks.” Ha! That made it totally worthwhile. Wendy and I decided that it should just be Henry’s trunk show, so that is how we sent out the Facebook invitation for it. (Henry never RSVPd.)
One of the main reasons I kept saying no isn’t that I don’t like the jewelry, but it was my house. How many times have I referred to it as our “pit of despair”? But over the last year, Henry and I have been working hard on giving our old furniture a makeover and basically throwing out a ton of things that were taking up too much space. It’s been a slow process, but I was feeling pretty good about things. I mean, there’s only so much we can do to rental property, but a budget kitchen makeover is next on the list. (Henry if you’re reading this, measure the kitchen floor. Thanks.) And then everyone got there, and then I just felt like shit, so I probably won’t let people come to my house for another 5 years, unless I make friends with college kids. I don’t think they’d mind my crap house so much.
Wendy got there a little early to set up her wares and walked right into Henry and I fighting about orange sherbet like it was a conflict the size of Ukraine. Then, promptly at 5, there was a horrible “This is the police!”-type of banging on my front door, so I screamed really loud, but it was just Cara and Alisa. If they had screamed, “PIZZA GUY!” I probably would have crapped my pants. I’m so afraid of knocks on my door, you guys!
I decided to try and distract everyone with cookies (they were Pillsbury and so-so, except for the key lime ones which I was in charge of and burnt the bottoms) and six different kinds of delicious cheeses. But why stop there, let’s have 5 different types of carb-y cheese vessels (otherwise known as crackers), fig preserves and apricot jelly, apples and grapes and three different types of olives so everyone could make tiny cheese sandwiches. HOW ADORABLE, RIGHT? Now stop looking at the holes in my ceiling, thanks.
The cookies were pink lemonade, key lime and orange creamsicle, which not only matched my two punches but also three of the plate colors! I LIKE MATCHING. I think maybe it’s because I played a lot of Memory as a child.
But then everyone arrived and immediately I was reminded of my broken porch step that yes, my landlord knows about but just doesn’t care I guess, and the fact that my tiny duplex is not equipped to hold 14 people all at once. I don’t know how the hell I used to have all of those house parties in my 20s.
Speaking of, two guys walked past the house and I was tempted to open the door and invite them in, because that’s how I used to do it back in the day. (And by “do it,” I swear I mean “invite people to my parties” and not “have sex with strangers.”)
The cheese was so good. I barely get to eat cheese anymore, so I basically loitered near this spot for two hours while everyone else tried on bracelets.
Henry scored me a second punch bowl so now I can have two tacky punches at once! To go along with everything else that is tacky about me, yay!
Henry was basically choking on estrogen and disappeared for quite some time. I thought perhaps he was hiding under the bed, but no. Then Wendy jokingly said she heard banging on the basement door awhile back and that maybe he was locked in the basement.
I found him down there working on one of my dumb DIY projects and I asked him why he didn’t knock harder.
“Because I didn’t care,” he sighed.
Henry kept doing this “I hate women” jig in the dining room and whispering things to me about how badly he wanted to escape.
“Chooch, let’s go to Target!” he’d suggest, but Chooch was like, “Fuck you, I’m watching Wendy model this scarf. Who knew there were so many ways to wear one!?” So finally Henry retreated to the bedroom, claiming to have a “headache.” Wah-wah.
Chooch ate all of the M&Ms I think. I love these bat bowls that Laura gave me, but they make me miss her.
Thank god Chris and Monica came with cupcakes and real cookies to distract everyone from the cookies that were supposed to be distracting everyone from my shitty house! They were so good. (Theirs, not mine.) The frosting on the cupcakes were made from strawberry wine, WHAT. So good. I love cupcakes too much.
I made Kaitlin pose with Brad the Clown because she’s the one who tipped me off on its existence at the flea market last summer. I still love him so much! And Kaitlin! Hate that I don’t get to see her everyday since she abandoned the Law Firm.
Henry let us near knives. He’s really slipping.
One of the perks of having a Chooch is that he is naturally entertaining and sincerely enjoys spending time with adults. So while I mostly stood alone and drank too much wine while wearing a cape of general “I sort of prepared for a party” malaise, no one noticed because Chooch amused us by:
- drawing weird Asian pop stars on Draw Something
- modeling necklaces while shouting, “OMG I HOPE KAITLIN DOESN’T SEE ME!” because he totally loves Kaitlin and wanted more than anything for her to look in his direction (she did)
- see above picture
I love these two! Please note that they are enjoying punch that I made all on my own except that Henry bought everything I needed for them. I got the go-ahead to write about the day I took their engagement pictures so hopefully later this week, that will happen!
My only duty for the day was to clean the bathroom but then I made myself throw up so then Henry cleaned the bathroom.
And the house managed to stay clean even after everyone left! I don’t know, I thought it was kind of looking OK but now rental property insecurities are taking over again. Cry me a river of hobo tears.