Can I See Some ID?
Update: Ha! I totally got quoted from this post in the Express' Blog Log this morning. David pointed it out to me after he got an email from someone else, telling him his party was now famous. That mother is totally going to hunt me down.
Went to one of those parties last night with a variety of WTF moments. What started off with weird douchey guys breaking the keg and running away ended with a seven-year-old telling us GWB jokes at 2am and people falling asleep under a car in the alley.
A bunch of us headed over to my friend David's house yesterday night to enjoy a packed backyard party. My roommates lasted all of ten minutes before scuttling back home where strangers fear to tread. Paul and I made an Army Audiologist doctor friend by the keg, whose medically-trained hands became of the utmost importance a few minutes down the road. We heard a loud rushing-air sound behind us, and I turned around to the two boys trying to fill their beer cups but now looking warily at each other and said, "Did you two just ruin the party?" They laughed nervously and said, "No way, we started this party," and ran off. We soon realized they'd somehow untapped the keg. Lame. It turns out it's kind of tricky to re-tap and already tapped keg without ruining the beer inside, but new doctor friend performed some emergency surgery and all was quickly returned to normal.
Paul and I seized some chairs and ceased to mingle with the natives, opting to relax in the evening air with Adrian, my friend Arish who has reappeared now that he's done with the bar exam, and Monali, one of my staffwise sister-in-arms. Monali arrived after us, coming into the backyard saying, "My friend is trapped inside the house entertaining some girl." "What, like a girl girl?" "Yeah, she's about ten years old...I have to go save her." And so begin the Babysitting Adventures. Apparently, one of the partygoers was a forty year old woman who brings her fucking children - a seven-year-old girl and a thirteen-year-old boy - to party with her. WTF. I am still appalled.
The girl followed Monali's friend out to our circle, where the girl plopped in the seat next to me, was quiet for a few minutes while we talked, then suddenly yelled, "I have a Bush joke! Wanna hear?!" "Um...sure." And then we were accosted for the next ever with terrible jokes she memorized from some book. While I'm thrilled she's helping to spread the all-important Our President Is An Idiot meme, I'm seriously concerned that she's doing it at 2am while moseying around drunk twenty-somethings.
The entire encounter, which lasted most of the rest of the evening since she attached herself to our group, left me tense and riddled with mother-like tendencies. At some point some drunk asshole handed her a half-empty beer bottle to hold for him, which I promptly grabbed out of her hand and threw on the ground. We soon heard the admission that she goes to parties with her mom all the time and this proclamation: "I don't drink any alcohol. Except wine." [Picture me mentally ripping my hair out as she says this.]
Listen, I don't even like children. Paul and Adrian are still laughing at me about last weekend, because we became the babysitters of choice for the self-proclaimed Best Shark Tooth Finder On The Beach, Evan, ten-years-old, who WOULDN'T STOP TALKING EVER. Adrian entertained him for awhile (and by entertained, I mean stood there while Evan talkedandtalkedandtalked about shark-tooth hunting), while I'd try to lay on my towel motionless so he wouldn't notice me. You know, like prey hiding from a T-Rex. But every once in awhile he'd trap me somewhere and I'd mentally tear out my uterus while he motor-mouthed about jellyfish nets or something.
So anyway, here I am at this party, in the clutches of a similarly motor-mouthed young girl with a keg beer in my hand. I think one of the reasons children - especially strange children - fill me with dread and fear is that I'm way, way too safety conscious. It makes me a little bit of a dork, I know, but the "dread and fear" kept me watching for any high-as-a-kite asshole who might give her some terrible drug "because how funny would that be!" Or just hand her a plastic cup, whatever. Suddenly I'm her god damned Mother, and I'm going to stab myself in the eardrums if I have to listen to one more joke.
Also, aside from however fucking irresponsible it is for her real mother to bring her to a party, how dare she force me to be babysitter because she wants to get drunk and hang out with her friends, right? What was worse though, really, was the thirteen year old boy, who was old enough to know how "cool" he was to be hanging out with all these adults getting drunk. I didn't see much of him, but he did come by our circle towards the end of the night, after the keg had been kicked and someone had requisitioned a bottle of wine for us. I happened to be holding the bottle when he came up behind me and asked, "Hey can I see the label?" Me, appalled: "No you cannot see the label! Where is your mother?!" "I don't know, inside. C'mon, I just want to see it." "Why?? So you can buy some in ten years when you turn 21? Seriously, you need to go away now." I know, I'm terrible, but WTF. Don't make me be a nice person in that situation. I just want Out. Now. He thought I was very quaint.
I am never having children. Lesson learned, again. Oh, also learned, based on events of the past two weekends: Never wear anything around Adrian that you'd cry about if lost and/or destroyed. I'm just saying.