Housemate Mirjam has announced another party. I swear she only does it to make me clean up. I haven’t yet, but we did at least have a garage sale today and got rid of a satisfactory amount of, um, stuff. But the party. It’s on Saturday a week from today and she’s given it a theme which is, wait for it – bad taste. I think this is not in very good taste, myself, but I could be missing the point. I’m figuring this theme will at least have the advantage of encouraging the loosening of inhibitions (along with the punch, of course). I expect we’ll organise prizes then get too trashed to give them out; it is bad taste, after all. I haven’t been to a bad taste party since I was a teenager. At that party I wore a boy’s school uniform complete with cap, and pigtails, and someone brought a trifle that looked like a green jelly swamp, with a little gumby doll drowning in it. We ate it, except for the gumby doll, which was plastic. The trifle was delicious, so the bad taste bit was purely aesthetic.
In terms of interpretation of the dress code, I think the advice would all trend the same way: go to town, go the whole hat, get your sartorial sinner on. I think we will have some of the more vulgar cocktails available, including mai tais (so refreshing in autumn), and we’re looking for a Twister mat. I might also do some of those little cocktail frankfurts on sticks, and, ooh yes, those teensy red and green onions with cubes of cheddar. Feel free to bring your poison of choice and let us know in advance if you need somewhere to crash. There may be assorted unpredictable occurrences; there usually are.
Any questions, call, txt or email me.
