Remember awhile back when Tate was all gung-ho for us to host a party? Well, he finally wore me down enough and we had a lil’ shindig here Saturday. It was actually a lot of fun. Usually I get so stressed from planning and cleaning and organizing and worrying about details that I end up not enjoying myself.
Parties for me are dangerous, though. There’s something about party food that makes my brain go into some sort of “starvation mode.” I prepared and ate entirely too much food. Part of the problem is that I don’t know how much food to prepare. I’m the type of person that would rather make too much food rather than not enough. There’s something to be said for making enough food to feed a third world country, it would be seriously embarrassing to run out of food. But there is also something to be said for having too many leftovers. I made dozens of deviled eggs, a vat of coleslaw, a gazillion bar-ba-cued pork chops, and a full-to-the-brim crock pot full of baked beans. In fact, we may be eating baked beans for every meal until Labor Day. Combined with the amount of beer we have left over, I hereby deem my home the House of Stank. Not a fun place to be right now, especially if you have a nose.
I’m still recovering from the unbelievable amount of food that I ate. I have no self control when it comes to tortilla chips, salsa, and 7-layer dip (the food of Gods, I say). I cannot control my love of chips and yummy accompanying condiment choices. It’s deliciousness sits in the chip and dip platter, beckoning me to eat as much as humanely possible because what if I never had the chance to eat it again?! My even more giant gut and muffin top are the visual reminders of Saturday’s foundering.
It appears that when I’ve been drinking, I become extremely passionate about many subjects. Somehow we got on the topic of the value of teachers. When one of the guests made a snide comment about how she could do a better job than most teachers, I passionately voiced my disagreement, all sassified, with an “oh, no she dint”, and some z-snapping thrown in for good measure. I don’t allow teacher bashing in my house, yo.
Sadly, this party affirmed the fact that I’m old. Too old to stay up late and drink more than two beers. I paid for my partying all day Sunday with a pounding headache and screaming toddler who went to bed late, also. I know better than to let this kid stay up late! Big mistake. Huge. (Can anyone name the movie reference in italics here???!!!)
I wish I could pawn off some of this food on all of you guys so that you, too can have your very own House of Stank. Beer and baked beans with an Advil chaser, anyone?