Navigating Home Parties
The first time I married, I was young. While my friends were still enjoying .25 beer nights at the Wooden Chicken, I was being invited to home cooking shows and Mary Kay parties. During one such cooking party, guests were asked by the demonstrator which product in the company line-up was their favorite. When a mousy girl fueled by boxed wine gave testament declaring, “I just can’t live without my jelly roll pan,” I felt the noose of domesticity tighten. I excused myself early, grabbed a roll of quarters and met up with my friends.
After witnessing the unnatural affection between a woman and her stoneware, I managed to avoid such parties until well into my second marriage. With the temptation of half price items and the lure of completing my craft box by fleecing my friends, I even agreed to host a few such gatherings in my own home. Translation: The hostesses who tricked me into doing so served more than punch.
I don’t think there are many people who see a candle, home décor, make-up, or even dildo party Evite in their inbox and jump for joy. It’s not like most people wake up on a Tuesday morning and think, “I really need a pineapple slicer.” I do attend, though, because I either really like the hostess or I really want to get out of my house.
Just Say No to Home Parties
My resolve is always solid when I leave home. The rules I impose upon myself for party behavior are similar to those of Patti Stanger, The Millionaire Matchmaker. I vow to have a 2 drink maximum and won’t give my phone number up to the demonstrator no matter how committed she seems to me. Unfortunately, I’m more like Patti’s whores than her millionaires. Even though I intend to buy something small, I’m usually tanked by the time the 6 minute cake comes out of the microwave.
Home Party Fail
And because most of the time I am bewitched by something as equally useless to me as a jelly roll pan, I will return to my own garage left with a decision. Do I hide the receipt or go in and round down my latest purchase of $159.00? Which, as we all know in marital math, means dropping the 1.
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