We had another couple over for dinner tonight. I was cool with it; I like these people and ours kids all get along. No problems, eh?
About an hour before they were due to arrive, I started freaking out.
Me: Shouldn't we serve them wine?
Ella: We don't drink wine.
Me: I know. But everyone else in the world does. Especially during dinner dates.
Ella: You watch too much television.
Me: We should serve them wine.
Ella: What kind of wine would you like to serve them?
Me: I don't know. I don't know anything about wine. I just know we need to serve them wine.
Ella: We have Corona. That'll do.
Me: Ok. Did you buy limes?
Ella: No.
Me: Why not? People put limes in Coronas!
Ella: You don't.
Me: So? We're trying to make them think we're civilized.
Ella: Just keep your mouth shut and we'll be alright.
Me: Fine.
I started looking through the cabinets.
Me: Do we have anything that looks like a beer glass?
Ella: No.
Me: We need beer glasses! We can't make them drink out of bottles. They'll think we're savages.
Ella: We have plenty of sippy cups.
Me: I'm going to Target.
Ella: No you're not. They can drink out of bottles.
And on and on it went. I painstakingly went over every single item in our home, looking for skeletons.
Ten years ago, I wouldn't have given a damn. We would've invited them over and served them Miller High Life and burgers or pizza. Now? Spinach lasagna and Corona. What the hell happened?
I think it was about the time I had kids that everything changed. I started caring more what others thought. I worried about the community and all that crap. Ten years ago, I wouldn't have cared if you didn't like me. In fact, I would have embraced it.
Things were different when I only had myself to worry about. I could say what I wanted and do what I wanted. And did so. But now my family will suffer the repercussions of my actions and words. So I keep my mouth shut.
At least I try to.
Whenever I'm nervous, I either clam up or babble nonstop. I prefer the first option, but more often than not, I'm filling lulls in conversation with off-the-wall anecdotes that have nothing to do with anything. And then I'll realize I'm doing it, try to make up for it with more talk, and just end up adding more crazy bullshit to my mountain of manure. It's a vicious cycle that can only be broken with a well-placed glare from Ella.
Over the next few days, I'll be reading everyone's tales from BlogHer. I would've loved to have gone. But I couldn't. I can't even deal with being around two people, let alone several hundred.
Boom Goes The Dynamite
After my Another Boring Night In Suburbia post, some of you wanted to know the ending. That pretty much is the ending. The cops had nothing to go on because I was such a crappy witness. The neighbors have no enemies that they're aware of. Everyone just thought it was the work of some extremely bored teenagers.See why I told the story in reverse?
And for the record, I had entirely too much fun telling the story that way.
Song of the day: Past The Mission by Tori Amos
