There's Got to be a Morning After

Bearing in mind that each day’s post is written the day before, meaning that I am writing this on a Sunday, and that Sunday is the day after my annual Summer Party – is it still considered a separate day if you’ve not truly slept? – and that I’ve willingly stupefied myself once again – today’s writing may be nothing more than a bit of correctly spelled fluff.

I’ve got all that worked out in a diagram at home, if you want to stop by.

I love having parties. The trick, I think, to a successful party is to invite just about everyone you know, add food and drink, and see what happens. This attitude, embedded by a rather hippie-ish babysitter at an impressionable point in my early childhood, is based on the idea that we are all, on a basic level, brothers and sisters.

This is not to say that I don’t sometimes dislike some of my brothers and sisters, but hey! "Let’s not bicker and argue over ‘oo killed ‘oo," as my Monty Python-quoting brothers would say. A party’s a party.

I’m a happy drinker, a smiling, laughing, possibly singing drinker. I don’t necessarily want to sit on your lap, I definitely don’t want to talk about BP/politics/immigration or welfare, and no, I will not go to a second location with you.

But if you’re headed toward the cooler, grab me one, would ya?

The aftermath of a party – aside from the recycling, the stale crackers, the discovery of mystery bruises – is also the reflective part of the party. Me, I tend to find words floating around, post-fete.

“No, no, no. The best ways to die are freeze to death, a fall from a very tall building, and being trampled.”

“… so sometimes you just have to ask yourself, why did I even bother to wear underwear?”

“An above-ground pool? So is that, like, in the ground?”

“Are you kidding me? I am the Rubik’s Cube MASTER! Hold on. I’ve got one in my car…”

“We should try to bring back the word “besmirched”. Someone quick go look it up.”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the party is over, I’ve drunk an enormous amount of water, and somewhere, someone is practicing a drumbeat using what sounds to be two pieces of rebar on a large bit of sheet metal. Boom-boom CHOCK! Boom-boom CHOCK!

I’m only mostly confident that that sound is external.