12112017Headline:

Awkward Party Animals

“I’ll grab my apron with the dudes on it, and you go put those spongy rollers in your hair. Together, we’ll dominate this gathering of strangers.”

I just got back from the grocery store. It was eventful, but as I’m still recovering from exactly how eventful, let’s just talk about that jaunt on Wednesday.

At any rate, getting distracted by today would be a mistake because then I couldn’t tell you about the weekend. And if that happened, how would you know I curled my hair for the first time in three months?

Oh, you’re too kind. I will happily tell you all about it.

Husband and I are pretty good at making it look like we know what we’re doing. For instance, we like to think we have a special touch with making bedsheets look like curtains. However, the wedding shower we went to on Saturday night proved we’re not only slipping in the area of faking expertise, but we have no idea what to do in public anymore. I attribute this to never leaving the house.

Overdressed yet under dressed: Not reading the invitation correctly, I assumed we were going to the actual wedding and not the shower. Subsequently, while everyone else wore a sun or maxi dress, I went with a shiny, polyester/cotton/I’m-here-to-accept-this-Academy Award-with-a-sage-dose-of-humility belted number.

The rest of the guests gave me the benefit of the doubt when it was discovered that, in my haste to run from the house, I’d forgotten to actually zip my dress up.

I’d like to take a moment to thank the gourmet cupcakes. For, if I hadn’t spent so much time at the desert counter, perusing which ones I’d murder later that evening, the fashion faux pas would’ve gone unnoticed.

Who’s It From?: A gift. We brought one. Furtive glances at each other also revealed neither one of us had bothered to put our name on the tag. Around the Kellerman house, general procedure is to lick something if you want to claim ownership of it. As we realized this wasn’t an option, we were totally lost.

My heart swelled with pride as husband shouted, “It’s a hamper,” right before we ducked back into the van.

Conversation: Let it be known, I love chatting at parties. If you ever see me at one social event or another, please come up and say hi. However, use caution if you see I’m drinking some type of alcohol. Gin and tonics tend to make me want to reveal my entire life story. Certain pieces of this may or may not be true. If I start saying words like, “Trained bears,” “Russian circus,” or “So that’s where I got the idea for Jack Lalanne’s Power juicer,” feel free to pat me on the head and move on.

That said, Saturday night made it clear I now gravitate towards certain types of conversation. Fashion is interesting. The day-to-day grind amuses me. But if you say something to the effect of…

“Lately, my husband and I stay in because we can watch two episodes of 48 Hours Mystery together on Saturday. Another on Sunday. And by Monday, I spend the whole day thinking he’s going to kill me.”

I will probably talk to you at every party I ever see you at for the rest of your life.

The important part of the entire evening is that Husband and I had a wonderful time. We got out, socialized, and I did end up murdering a cupcake as big as my head.

I’m just glad 48 Hours doesn’t care about bakery homicide.

Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com, and is the author of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle. You can reach her at paigekellerman@gmail.com.

She also hides out on Twitter and Facebook.


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