>Scenes From a Party
>It’s not a party until the Governor of Tennessee walks by you just in time to catch you stuffing a massive piece of chocolate cake in your mouth.
It’s not a party until a very ordinary-looking man passes you and you look down to see that he’s wearing shiny tights and short shorts beneath his ordinary button-down shirt.
It’s not a party until you discover Manuel is standing at the table next to yours.
It’s not a party until you watch three different women trip over their floor-length cocktail dresses and thank the heavens you didn’t succumb to that trend yourself.
It’s not a party until someone you know laughs about the “hate mail” in this week’s Nashville Scene and you grab a copy at the door to read this gem:
Please, please, please get rid of Lindsay Ferrier. Her weekly white girl whine-fest is so free of talent, creativity, interesting insight, intelligent commentary and substance that I’m surprised there isn’t a burned-out hole in the page each week where her column should be. I refuse to frequent any of your advertisers until she’s been canned and sent back to her scrapbook world of lunching, SUVs and mommy gossip.
And you have to admire this person for taking the time to write such clever hate mail. You even read it aloud to your husband while you’re standing in the drinks line. You love the image of a burned out hole where your column should be. You fervently wish there was some way to make that happen for next week’s issue, but alas. The printing press has only evolved so far.
It’s not a party until you spend most of the evening watching people fawn all over your TV reporter husband, even though he’s your guest and the party is thrown by your employer. Blast! Fortunately, he keeps trying to make out with you in front of everyone and you realize how lucky you are to have a husband who still finds you make-out-a-ble seven years and two kids after you’ve met.
It’s not a party until a middle aged man looks down at your nametag as you make your way through the sluggish crowd and you notice him nudge his friend and say, “Hey, that’s…”
“I know,” his friend answers as they both stare at you, frowning.
“Weird,” the man says at last.
But what’s really weird is that you happily endure all of these things just to get a Cosmopolitan-laced night away from the kids. Hooray for parties!
>Surely the gov was a server at this bastion of aloof post modern faux-intelligencia indie hipster-ness?
>To be honest, the main attraction for me was Vic Lineweaver.
>Thank goodness for hot husbands. They make everything better… even sucky parties.
>I think you’re being stalked by Martina.
>*snort* @ Lineweaver comment.
>(following motherhood uncensored)Or Robin Roth.
>Ah, honey, this just sucks.While I’m glad you got a night away, I hate that this all has gone to such an extreme.
>Eh? You mean the hate mail? No, that seriously doesn’t bother me. That comes with the territory of last week’s column. It was one of those love-it-or-hate-it pieces.Don’t worry, I had fun last night.
>girl, I am on my way to email Nashville Scene and tell them how wonderful you are!!
>Doesn’t that person know we only gossip about people who send hate mail? And that chick who kept making out with her husband at the party. Oh, wait- that was YOU??
>I also second it was Martina’s camp that sent the hate mail. Hilarious!
>WooHoo a night out with a hot husband smooching you in front of everyone!!Wanted to add that Bruiser is so handsome!!!Also you are doing a great job with Punky and the others. Our district preschools are play and have fun while learning curriculum. My Autistic son was in regular class nd loved it.Want to pass on to you a nice site to download fun worksheets and lesson plans that is free. We are on 3 week school break and my kids 5 and 9 enjoy practicing their handwriting, math, science, and fun activities. http://www.learningpage.com Aritha
>I just saw that! I giggled. its probably still a green-hills mom…
>Revel in your notoriety!
>It’s not a party unless you’re not wearing panties either!! 🙂
>Woot!
>Loved this!Nashville Scene should be kissing your feet!
>OMG, has that ding-a-ling of Martina’s resorted to letters to the editor? Boycotting advertisers? Really? Over your mention of not flushing? What a dork! It sounds like things must be really desperate in that camp, no new songs to sing???I am pretty confident that 99.9 percent of the folks that have read the pee-gate writings are thinking you are very witty, and are looking forward to reading more…the other .1 percent…well, that would be that absolute baffoon that works for Martina.Keep up the good work, we all love you, and we dont wear shiny tights.
>Love the shiny tights with shorts combo. Am assuming he was also wearing penny loafers? Don’t tell me if not – leave me my dreams…I also think Martina may be stalking you. The thing is; I’ve heard of you, but her? Not such a big fish that’s she’s made it over the pond, apparantly…
>It is so tiring to read people bash mothers that actually DARE to write about their experiences in a public forum.I have a friend that blogs for a smallish town newspaper and she gets the same type of comments regularly. You have an independent and intelligent voice, so screw them!
>At least nobody showed up drunk with a kayak……hate to say it, but that actually happened to me…I love parties, the more people to annoy the better!!!!
>I was so mad when I read the “hate mail” part of your post! I love your writing style. It’s obvious this person is an idiot – and probably doesn’t flush!
>I know the person who sent the hate letter. I happen to know she is a wanna be writer. Jealousy is a mighty powerful thing. It’s about the only thing that could motivate someone to that level of agitation.