Four score and seven beer ago, my onefather (and 3 friends) brought forth on this condo a new population. At least I think that's how it goes, I am paraphrasing from Kindergarten Cop. In my new and pretty condo, people gather and lounge. Like big cats in sunspots. They like to drink beer and soda pop. It is a fun place to be and people finally wanna come over to play. Hubby and I have always been homebodies who wanted to entertain but we've never had the space... Now we have space to spare. A foursome is easily accommodated for a movie, a twosome for a snuggle and a larger group spreads out and leans against walls, leaking into the den, where most of the Man-geek magic happens.
I have always wanted to be the condo the neighbours walk by thinking; "Aww, that sounds like fun." My old neighbours used to have that kind of party (every Thursday, Friday and Saturday with a sleep over brunch on Sunday, which is a bit much) and all I wanted was to be invited to one. All this longing, knowing that once the day of the party arrives I would stress about having nothing to wear that would show how fun I am*insert jazz hands. Only to decide on the same thing I wore in the last set of Facebook photos of a party I was at. When I do get to the party, usually the first guest, I start helping out, bowling snacks or chilling beer. I make myself busy to hide the fact that I'm a bit nervous to be there. When other guests arrive, appropriately late (which is a weird thing, right? I mean if you wanted people there for 7:30, why not just say that? Don't call it for 7:00, knowing people won't arrive for a half hour, 'cause I'll arrive at 7:00, it's rude to be late) I am tossed from the kitchen and into the fray of people: some I might know, some will be strangers. This should be exciting right? It is the most terrifiying situation, Zombie apocalypse not withstanding. If they are comedy people the night demands one-up-manship and witty banter- which means I have to be on my toes! And though I am not competitive, I don't like to loose. If the group is 9-5ers they are easily off put by an overly eager me trying to connect with them on some topic, pumping them for mutual interests, anything that we could jive about for a standard party interval. And if the guests are family, oh dear, I am the black sheep, and I believe that as my family they are mandated to love me, and they do, but that doesn't mean they don't think I'm outta my everloving mind.*insert sad jazz hands
I think I might be trying too hard. I just want people to like me, I mean I want people to want to like me. I don't want to ask people to like me, I want them to do it on their own. Is that so strange? I mean it seems to me that I am a good person, with good intentions and I am doing good things... Well, mostly good things, I J-walk and break minor bi-laws on occasion, damn the man. I think if you invited me to your party you would have fun. I am the world's cheapest party entertainer... special mid-week rates apply:)
I have always wanted to be the condo the neighbours walk by thinking; "Aww, that sounds like fun." My old neighbours used to have that kind of party (every Thursday, Friday and Saturday with a sleep over brunch on Sunday, which is a bit much) and all I wanted was to be invited to one. All this longing, knowing that once the day of the party arrives I would stress about having nothing to wear that would show how fun I am*insert jazz hands. Only to decide on the same thing I wore in the last set of Facebook photos of a party I was at. When I do get to the party, usually the first guest, I start helping out, bowling snacks or chilling beer. I make myself busy to hide the fact that I'm a bit nervous to be there. When other guests arrive, appropriately late (which is a weird thing, right? I mean if you wanted people there for 7:30, why not just say that? Don't call it for 7:00, knowing people won't arrive for a half hour, 'cause I'll arrive at 7:00, it's rude to be late) I am tossed from the kitchen and into the fray of people: some I might know, some will be strangers. This should be exciting right? It is the most terrifiying situation, Zombie apocalypse not withstanding. If they are comedy people the night demands one-up-manship and witty banter- which means I have to be on my toes! And though I am not competitive, I don't like to loose. If the group is 9-5ers they are easily off put by an overly eager me trying to connect with them on some topic, pumping them for mutual interests, anything that we could jive about for a standard party interval. And if the guests are family, oh dear, I am the black sheep, and I believe that as my family they are mandated to love me, and they do, but that doesn't mean they don't think I'm outta my everloving mind.*insert sad jazz hands
I think I might be trying too hard. I just want people to like me, I mean I want people to want to like me. I don't want to ask people to like me, I want them to do it on their own. Is that so strange? I mean it seems to me that I am a good person, with good intentions and I am doing good things... Well, mostly good things, I J-walk and break minor bi-laws on occasion, damn the man. I think if you invited me to your party you would have fun. I am the world's cheapest party entertainer... special mid-week rates apply:)
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