I want a party.
Pink macaroons and a million balloons and performing baboons...and...give it to me NOW!
Well no, not literally right now (which is probably the only thing that separates me from Veruca Salt at this precise moment). Currently, I'm in my pajamas, wrapped in my tattered, pink bathrobe and huddled in front of the space heater trying to combat the drafts in this forsaken Grotto basement because the temperature outside is 0º. A big fat golden goose egg temperature...a rotten goose egg. Party-perfect picture would not describe me in my current state.
But I do want a party.
I want that huge blowout with custom-designed and engraved invitations, a DJ, an open bar stocked with only top shelf liquor, black tie and ball gowns, and cake! I want a really big cake! That I didn't bake! Made out of dreams and whipped cream.
You know, throughout my lifetime, I've not done one single, solitary thing the "ordinary" way to warrant this kind of party pretty much ever.
My "sweet" 16 found me in the hospital.
I didn't graduate from high school.
Prom was a disaster. Perhaps not on the scale of Carrie White disaster but still a night I'd just like to erase from all future memory lane strolls.
I never married.
|Carrie White (photo credit: fanpop)...prom wasn't QUITE this bad...but close.|
I'm not saying I haven't had any fun because holy shitsnax, People! I've had LOADS of fun! But I've never had a blowout party that was just for me.
I've been thinking about this for awhile. Maybe because my 40th birthday approaches (rapidly EEK!). In reality though, I've thought about it off and on for years. I once faux-proposed to a friend for the sole purpose of needing a partner-in-crime to do catering and cake tastings. I can't very well interview caterers for my faux-wedding without a faux-fiancé, now can I?
No. I most assuredly cannot.
Unfortunately, he declined. Probably because he'd already been married once and the whole experience was old hat to him. Meh. Whatever, spoil sport.
So, I suppose, faux-wedding reception is out.
However! Yesterday, Kris at Not a Girl, Not Yet a Wino, posted about attending a memorial service and said this...
I went to a memorial service today. It was magnificent. Top shelf liquor, a room full of colleagues and friends, a vibrant program printed in reds and greens. I don’t recall the last time I went to something like this, but I think we should do them more often. As is a popular opinion, I think we should hold them when we’re living, perhaps three-quarters of the way through the expected life span, so that the honoree can hear all the beautiful things their loved ones say about them.
And I thought to myself, "Huh. Maybe I should throw a wake for myself?"
Except no. Because wow! Weird. And also? The part about listening to all the beautiful things loved ones might say about me fills me with abject horror. What if no one comes? What if no one has anything nice to say? What if...what if it's just ME there, in my infinite wisdom? Worse! What if lots of people come and I have to listen to and accept, graciously, all the nice things said about me? I'd die of self-conscious embarrassment making it a real wake for the dead rather than the living.
No. Thank. You.
I still want a party just for me.
I want to dress in a ball gown made out of scrumptious, deep, satiny purple. I want the guests to be required to come in the jewel tone color of their choice - ruby red, sapphire blue, emerald green. And! I want all the women to wear hats as if they were going to Ascot a la My Fair Lady.
I want orangutans serving canapés while dressed in top hats and tails. Because really? Who doesn't love an orangutan? Especially one in top hat and tails?
I don't want a date to this party. I want my dance card - I'll happily take ballroom dance lessons - to be filled with any number of male and female and queer admirers! Who will dance with me to Chaka Khan and Rufus...
Or maybe Journey...
And especially ABBA...
Can we actually ballroom dance to these kinds of songs? Hmmm...probably not.
I want a party.
I don't think I'll ever get one. Still...I want one. And I want it now (but not literally NOW).
I want a party with roomfuls of laughter. 10,000 tons of ice cream. And if I don't get the things I am after, I'm going to scream! I want the works! I want the WHOLE works! Presents and prizes and sweets and surprises of all shapes and sizes. And now? Don't care how I want it now!
Is that too much to ask?