She Blinded me with Chardonnay

Friday: the day of White Pants' big party. WP's husband goes away every fall to watch a football game in his home town (guys are weird) and WP ships her kids off to her mother so she can have the house to herself for two entire days. If you don't happen to have children, let me 'splain that a weekend alone in your own home is like, like almost as good as being on an island beach alone with nothing but a good book. The silence, the cleanliness (or at least the knowledge that the messes are your own, and you're not cleaning up after anyone else) the uninterrupted television and the possession of the remote, the eating anything you want whenever you want, and the dancing around in your underwear singing Jesse's Girl into your hairbrush. And the sleep; the glorious, heavy, sound sleep.

WP kicks off these weekends with a big bash. She invites 50 of her closest friends, makes a ton of Trader Joe's frozen appetizers, buys cases of white wine, and awaits the rockfest. There were a lot of women, eating, drinking, yapping, then C brings out the Karaoke machine. The usual suspects do a couple of numbers, and they've been bugging me to try karaoke, and I'm thinking, "If I'm going to do it, this is the way to do it: most of these people aren't listening." I'm thinking maybe they just wont notice me on the couch (about three or four people left the couch, clearly fearing that they would find themselves with a microphone singing Cocomo, but I hate standing at parties SO MUCH, that I didn't want to lose my seat.) Suddenly, they start chanting my name into the microphones. I quickly start shoving cocktail shrimp into my mouth (can't sing with a full mouth, right?) but I relent and agree to sing She Blinded Me with Science. For future reference, this is not a good karaoke song; you think you know the words but you really don't. Anyway, L, who is sitting next to me, says she'll do it with me.

The karaoke machine tipped over in C's car on the way to the party, so it wasn't working properly. I used that as an excuse to completely suck, but here's what really happened: So L is singing next to me, and she knocks my socks clean off. I know L as an accounting type with an unsettling love of spreadsheets. She lets me boss her around and clean out her closets and stuff, but she's afraid to get rid of decades-old bank statements and cables that lead no where. I just love that girl, and now I have a reason to love her more. Turns out, accounting lady knows EVERY WORD to EVERY SONG that comes up on the karaoke machine, and the stereo all night, AND she can sing like a mo' flicka. I kept looking at her like, "Who ARE you??" The Karaoke machine was packed up pretty soon after that. I've decided to believe that it was not my singing or my lack of Thomas Dolby lyric knowledge that made them cart it off, but I was relieved that they did. Can you believe I forgot my camera? Dang it!

The evening progresses, girls are leaving, much to WP's chagrin as she has fantasies of rock 'n' rolling all night long and partying every day, and in the end its just me and L and WP, laying on her sofa, listening to loud music. WP assures me that I didn't over stay my welcome, but she looked pretty tired, and had a lot of food to put away. So L and I finally leave, and I drive L's hybrid (its like a space ship!) to her house with her in the passenger seat, bombed. We get to her house, and I decide that, even though I was fine to drive, I would just walk home. Its just before 2 a.m. and she flutters into her house, and I start the trek to my house.

There is no reason to be scared in my town. It should be made of gingerbread, its so safe. But L lives in a canyon, and its dark, so I call Rob at home to let him know that I'm walking and if I'm not home in 20 minutes, he should come looking for me. He sleeps through the phone. Awesome. My only real fear is that I'll trip, but I don't, and the walk is cool and quiet and wonderful. Not one car passed me, I didn't see one raccoon or cat or anything, I saw lots of stars, and it was a nice way to clear my head before hitting the hay. Rob didn't wake up when I got in bed either.

I told WP that I hate taking my makeup off late at night, and I wish I could just leave it on and go to bed, but I'm afraid that it will stain my pillow case. She assured me that, based on personal experience, it would not, and she was right! I slept in my party makeup and there was no evidence on my pillow case in the morning. I did have a hangover, though, and Rob went and got me a McDonalds breakfast (with a small coke, I admit) which is the best hangover food, bar none. But I couldn't write that day, I was too tired. I was too tired yesterday, too actually.

**ADDENDUM: As my friends read this post, the hangover stories are pouring in. I wasn't the only one! I also found out that a friend who lives in the canyon right below WP's house heard us singing for HOURS...