April 25, 2011 by rebelwithalabelmaker
So, Friend From Meadville #2 came to visit last week. Okay, I need a better “not naming people” system for the blog. Apparently, no using peoples’ real names. Sorry Kathryn. So I am trying to come up with a fake name, and I can’t seem to come up with something that doesn’t have the phrase “number two” in it. Oh dear.
So, FFM2 was the one who’s very kind comments about the warm, welcoming feeling in our house prompted the last post (FFM2 used to be in politics, and you can tell. Mostly from the furious rants, but also from the much politeness). Anyways, FFM2 used to hobnob with classy folk, and told me this story which totally wins the Hummingbird prize this week. (Did you know about the hummingbird prize, before just now? Yeah, me neither).
So, FFM2 is off at a cocktail party, shmoozing with the seriously classy people that apparently dominate the upper crust in American society (as he’s telling me this story, one of the drawers in our kitchen falls apart in his hand and gives him a heart attack. Oh, he is moving up the social ladder visiting us). (No, technically he did not have an actual heart attack. Also, technically it wasn’t a drawer. It’s even labelled “not a drawer” but that’s another story).
Anyway, back in his old life, he was shmoozing about in a classy home with much matching decorated stuff and all kinds of classy people eating caviar and immaculate white carpets. Who owns white carpets? Very classy people, who have them replaced each month, I’m guessing. Also, the classy people have a four year old. Who they do not replace each month, I’m guessing. And the four year old comes down so cute in his pjs to say good night and I bet you are guessing that the kid spills something on the carpet–but no, the kid was not drinking red wine. Red wine on white carpe–spilled by someone else.
So, big mess and everyone gasps, and the lovely hostess who gets my award of the week (and will be so excited, I’m sure) doesn’t bat an eye. Houses are for living in, and she says “That’s no big deal at all. No worries” (This is about the time the Lion King came out, and she has a four year old, so you can guess what she knows every line of from start to finish). The guest is apologizing profusely, and hostess says “No really, it’s fine. Happens all the time.” And to prove her point, she turns to the four year old and says “Sweetie, tell him what we always say in our house.”
“Don’t touch your penis!” says four year old.
(Don’t worry, the story doesn’t end with the four year old crying when everyone laughs. The four year old is delighted that he is so clearly the life of the party, and starts repeating “Don’t touch your penis!” liberally to all the guests. Eventually, he is carted off to bed, and the party goes down in history as Best Party Ever.