Movers and shakers: The story of my evolution within the party circuit.

There was a time, in the not so distant past, when being invited to a party usually promised shuttle rides up and down Laurel Canyon, swimming pools filled with drunken revelers, themed rooms, the promise of handsome new friends, and usually the glamour of waking up with smeared eyeliner on someone's red velvet couch the following afternoon.

My, how things have changed.

Let me just start by saying that I wanted a bit of a break from a party prone lifestyle. Just a small break. That's all. I mean, come on... I've spent 7 years in L.A., the mecca of all parties, and 3 years in London- which was probably an even bigger party. I have almost welcomed this stint of making crafts, waking up early for my nice, sensible job as an admin. assistant at Macy's, baking, and going out less often. It makes the occasional night out almost... dare I say, exciting?!

I did NOT sign up for last Saturday night though. Oh no, I did not.

Obviously, if my mother's friend Harriet who is 76 years old invites me to her and her husband's "GOLDEN 50TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY" party I could safely assume that this was not going to be a big blowout with kegs and strippers. Obviously not. I did, however, expect maybe a bottle of wine on the table, maybe I'd find someone who was a black sheep like me who I could have a conversation with. I don't think that's too much to hope for, do you?

Yeah, well. After finishing work on Saturday, I went straight to the liquor store to get a bottle of wine. You know, it's the polite thing to bring when attending a party. (Actually, I was terrified that there would be no alcohol at the party.) Then I went into the Virginia Cafe and downed 3 vodka sodas in quick succession. Feeling somewhat prepared, I hopped on the train to meet my mom and her best friend Bettie. (SUPPOSED best friend, as my mom loves talking trash about her ALL the time, but that is a whole other blog for another day) They were waiting for me at the station and I got in the car and we went to the party.

We were the first ones there. They golden couple hadn't even arrived yet. I sat awkwardly on the couch and half listened to a girl talk earnestly about being a volunteer for the Portland Singing Christmas Tree this year, and how she would be so honored and touched if we were to come see her sing next week, and that she doesn't know one person who doesn't get moved to tears when witnessing the concert. Tears of boredom, maybe. Finally lots of people began to arrive. Almost everyone was Filipino, which is what I was expecting, because all of my mom's friends are Filipino. However, I started noticing all the men who were there. Just about all of them were as American and white as you could get. And they ALL looked like the cat who got the cream... because they all had hot Filipino wives!!! Hahaha. Anyway, that was just an observation.

This one guy though- he was too much. I couldn't even look at him. He was about 50 years old and looked and sounded like your typical TV evangelist. I think he was a minister, actually. His Filipino wife was sitting in the corner reading a book. (Great idea.) I about choked on my bowl of rice when he started talking to my mom and her friends. He pointed at a woman standing nearby with high heels. "Look at them thangs... why, I think women wear them to strengthen their calve muscles so they can drive all the men crayzay!!" Oh, gross.

Then, the other half of the Golden Couple, Harriet, gathered everyone into the living room. She started handing out photocopied sheets of paper to selected people. She walked up to me and gave me one, smiling and nodding at me. I smiled back uncertainly and saw that the paper had a love poem on it. I said, "Oh, that's nice!" and showed my mom, who proceeded to put it in her purse. Harriet said, "No, no, give it back to Joy. I want her to stand up and read the poem to us." I looked at her in horror. There was no WAY I was going to stand up and read a poem. I gave her some apologetic excuse and handed it back to her. No mind, there were plenty of people there who were willing to read the EIGHT poems she was passing around. Also, we all got a song sheet that we had to sing along to. Guess who led the song? The creepy evangelist guy did, while playing the piano! I can't really find words to describe how he sounded, but let's just say it was pretty painful to sit through, as were the readings of the bizarre poems.

During all this, I happened to glance at the TV screen and low and behold, there was Tammy Faye Baker, walking around in her mascara and hugging children at a children's hospital. Didn't she pass away? Why was she on TV just then? It was all too much.

I had longing thoughts of my bottle of wine which was taking a nap in my handbag. There was absolutely NO alcohol at this party, which was appalling. I made the decision to sneak to the bathroom to down what I had. Unfortunately, when I took a second look at the bottle, it was not a twist cap. An overwhelming sense of defeat washed over me. I was stuck at this party, and I was going to be sober.

The turning point of the evening was when Harriet called everyone back into the living room after we ate the buffet and cake. She instructed everyone to gather around the television set and introduced us to her friend, who was wearing a suit and told us he was going to show us a video. Oh great, now we were going to watch wedding videos or a photo slideshow. I mean, that's what you would expect to watch at an anniversary party, right? Well, imagine my (and everyone else's, for that matter)confusion when an infomercial for "PREPAID LAWYERS" came on. I kid you not. It was a guy selling a prepaid lawyer service!!! And a service that was very obviously catered to people who would be classified at the bottom of the social ladder. I was confused for a good minute or two, but it didn't take long for it to dawn on me that I was witnessing a pyramid scheme selling presentation.... at a wedding anniversary party.

About 30 minutes into the video, I started nodding off but was woken by my mom loudly interrupting the presentation with: "Excuse me, we have to go home now. MY DAUGHTER has to get up at 5:00 am for work." Which was true, but I like how she used me as an excuse to leave. Haha. So, after I gave a vague wave goodbye in the general direction of the party goers, I was free. Bettie drove us home. As an almost icing on the cake of the evening, my mom got car sick on the way home and threw up in the driveway when we got out of the car. Of course.



*Names are changed to protect the innocent... I'm not that evil.