New Years Eve turned out to be more terrifying than magical, but only to the outsider looking in. To us, we felt that our imaginary party surpassed magical. We all got pretend wasted and fake made out with one another at midnight. If it had been real, we would all still be on bed rest with mono. Yeah. And of course there was that game of musical underwears. It got weird in all the right places.
Everyone who attended had their own special time at the party. None of the guests remember a lick of the evening, but luckily I had a camera hidden in that bonsai tree everyone kept trying to eat, so that we could all relive it. Hold on to your aspirin.
After La La and I linked our arms in a fancy fashion and did a get-the-party-started-shot out of some vases she found lying around, the first guests started to arrive. First was none other than Rich, Twindaddy, and Calahan who all arrived riding a tandem bicycle. They looked dashing. Especially Rich, who already had a margarita in one hand and a package of depends in the other. He thought it would be funny. It was. After all, we did instruct guests to bring a change of underwear.
Before Twindaddy could even set up the YouTube streaming videos of people doing the stanky leg, we heard a discerning clatter coming from the back yard. Or the roof. This one I am hazy on. It was David Stewart, of course. His homemade helicopter was painted in purple animal print. At first we were confused, but then Renee hopped out screaming, “Sir Mix-A-Lot is getting a run for his money tonight!”. That made more sense and was refreshing to hear.
Speaking of refreshing, as more guests started to arrive we all started coming up with drink concoctions. Emily set up a drink stand in the kitchen that had a sign reading, “Enhanced Lemonade” with a winking smiley face drawn on it. Le Clown later broke this sign in half using only his nose. He didn’t even smudge his new clown make-up.
Sarah brought plenty of tequila which me and La La hoarded all night, and Cathy and India brought some other inferior liquors. Just kidding. No liquor is inferior. And Cathy, I had no idea you could down a gin and tonic through Adam‘s beer bong like that. Impressive. Good thing JackieP was on standby with the water to hydrate us all, until she found the room with the clapper light and disappeared for the rest of the night.
We didn’t just drown ourselves in booze. There was also a feast. It had resemblance to the imaginary feast in the movie Hook.
Vyvacious brought some gourmet batman looking stuff to the table which started a chain reaction. Everyone started whipping out their treats. Not those kinds of treats. Adam
is brought a cheese ball. Lori brought an edible insect that I stayed away from, because I wasn’t sure what it was. I ate Weeb’s desert instead. She got kind of mad. To top it all off, I found Lauren frying chicken in the kitchen with mmkng (hello, hello kitty underwear!). They were whispering to each other, “Be vewy vewy careful” and snickering madly.
Suddenly, about ten till midnight, the famous bromantic couple Brother Jon and David Harding busted through the door. Brother Jon brought the ultimate party platter of bagel bites, pickles, and pizza rolls, and David had everyone fist dancing simultaneously. Naturally, but very unnaturally. He was also chanting something about giants ruling. The only one not fist dancing was Amy. She was swaying in the wind like a willow.
As the clock struck twelve, and I frantically searched for Calahan, Le Clown raised his sparkling water to which everyone fell silent. He made a toast that was too beautiful to be translated. Or, I am just rusty on my French. We all had a moment of silence for the absent Jillian and Ridicuryder who decided it would be bad for his abstinence to show up to a party with women, booze, and underwear celebrations.
Then everyone became one.
I slipped out of the kissing cluster just in time to find Calahan, who was nuzzling in the corner with Jack and humming the tune of All By Myself . I didn’t dare interrupt him.
As guest finally started making the trek home, I made sure to warn everyone not to disturb Maddie who passed out on the front yard sidewalk with Moses’s tie on. As the number of party people dwindled, La La and I took a much-needed seat on the front porch. As I lit my last cigarette, we saw Carrie and Jules stealing the tandem bicycle. They had a large bag tied to the back.
Just before they turned out of sight, I watched three identical thinking crowns fall out of the bag and skip across the asphalt. “So much for the party favors” I though, just before I gave in to sleep.
Bonus: LaLaBec Productions Out Take
- Becca and La La’s New Year’s Eve Celebration (25tofly.com)
Good morning there puppets.
I simply wanted to write an update post today. I have been busily working on several projects for the up and coming year. One of them involves ventriloquism. One of them also involves a men’s urinal. What a combination, right? Those are the only hints I can give.
This weekend, be on the look out for the duo vlog from me and La La. There is something in it for you. We also think in the video, so you really don’t want to miss it.
On the morning of January 4th, my second article will go live on The Indie Chicks. It’s about that Color Run I didn’t actually run a while back, but it is also about expectations versus reality. I think we all can relate to that. Oh, and there is mention of slip-n-sliding so now you are required to read it.
There will be no fancy new blog theme for 2013. My blog avoids aesthetic improvements… much like your mom. Did you see that “your mom” joke that just happened? Soak it up.
The end of this year has been really fun. Money was raised, there were shout outs galore, vlogs, blog parties, contests, special friendships, a few power couple formations, and I spontaneously combusted on ACOF. Read the rest of this entry
I had a dream the other night. Here is what ensued:
I was invited to some undisclosed honorary event of high magnitude. Everyone was there, even Jared the Subway guy. For some reason we all had to ride in one over sized charter bus to this event. While in line awaiting to board the bus, I got stuck behind Jared. I could see all of my blogging buddies way ahead of me already claiming seats on the bus. Stupid Jared. You didn’t shrink down to half your original size just to block me from all of the witty banter and F words unfolding on that bus.
I formulated a plan to catch up with my people. In a flash of genius, I decided to distract him by whispering, “I don’t have five bucks for your foot long, but give me six inches and we will call it even”. Surprisingly, this didn’t phase him. He just stared me down blankly like I was less desirable than a veggie sub. There was no other option, so in a final attempt to get around him, I ran to the back of the line and screamed, “Where did all this fried chicken come from?”.
After successfully making it onto the cozy bus, I was searching for a seat when I bumped into a man. Not just any man. The holy grail of men. Eric Bana. He turned, almost in slow motion, as the bus’s high-powered air conditioner blew his hair ever so perfectly across his forehead. “You have a lovely necklace there”. Apparently dream me was wearing pearls, which doesn’t make much sense, because I don’t do pearls. But hey, Eric Bana gets what Eric Bana wants. I’ll be happy to quit my day job and become a fucking oyster hunter if need be.
He then flashed a flawless smile as I replied, “Why, thank you”. It was so beautiful. It is the kind of conversation I have always dreamed of having with the sexiest man alive. Yeah, I did that on purpose. Read the rest of this entry