Hostess With the Mostess

Okay, considering that the holiday party season is in full-on swing, I’m here to help (as always). So I present to you…

The WildHearts Guide to Entertaining: How to Be the Host(ess) with the Most(ess)

  1. Stock up. A good host/hostess has enough of everything. And I mean everything–yes, Mr. or Mrs. Mostess should ensure everyone’s cocktail glasses remain filled and the h’orderves are a-plenty, but that’s not all a good host thinks of. Band-aids for the clumsy guest who manages to slice herself with the cheese knife. Vicodin for your friend with anxiety issues (or yourself–parties get stressful, and no one likes a snappy host). Extra toilet paper and tampons hidden discreetly in reachable tins in the bathroom–trust me, no one wants to ask for that accouterment, and they will root around in your stuff.
  2. Be flexible. Your best friend shows up with her gross, loud boyfriend? Greet him with grace. A snooty vegan refuses to eat the vegetarian options you thoughtfully prepared (see Rule 1)? Offer to run down to the corner store and grab that bitch some lettuce. Your power goes out? Why, a candlelit dinner would be ever so fun! No matter what catastrophes threaten to ruin your big night, you are the best host ever, damn it, and your feathers won’t ruffle.
  3. Look stunning. I don’t care if it’s a casual margarita night (although, come on, it’s Christmas or Chanukah or Kwanza–pizzazz your get-together up a little). No one wants to go to your house to find you still wearing the outfit you tossed on to clean the house–a good party should appear effortless. Your sweaty gym-bun and flour-dusted sweatpants are just a gross reminder of how much work you put into your fiesta, and then everyone feels guilty and weird and over-compliments your canapés.
  4. Make plans (but don’t be afraid to break them–see Rule 2). Now, most people are content with sitting around in your pretty house and drinking, but sometimes a little more effort is required. Maybe you’re having a weird mix of guests who don’t know each other well enough to dive right into dinner-and-drinks chitchat, or maybe your friends just suck. Either way, if you’re afraid your party is going to fall apart like a badly-baked souffle, you need some backup plans. We’re adults here–Twister is not an option. But nobody said you had to leave drinking games at college–card games are a classy means of getting your guests wasted, and no one will be bored.
  5. Outsource. If you want to do everything yourself, fine. There is nothing wrong with that. Make sure you get extra of everything, clean your house like a madman, and have a fabulous outfit hanging on the back of your closet to pop into. But if the host task seems a little daunting, well, that’s only because it is. And the bigger the party, the more stressful your Lone Ranger routine becomes. So outsource! Caterers are by far the most helpful resource–mmm, delicious food that you slide into homey-looking pans so it looks like you did all the work, et voila! But if you’re really lazy, a maid can come in handy, and you can even hire sous chefs or servers to make yourself look like Donald Trump (with better hair, let’s hope).

So, that’s it! Now you can host a great party in 5 not-so-simple steps! I could drone on about location and presentation and why trying to make everyone lobster solo is sure to be a tragic failure, but really, I have better things to do. And for those of you who aren’t having a bash this year: here’s how to be the perfect guest! Arrive a little late, look great, pretend you love everything even if you don’t, try not to incite any arguments, play your host’s childish game of Kings, and above all, look like you’re having fun.

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Well,

I can’t think of anything to write about. So instead: a picture of balloons and gorgeous lingerie.

Any suggestions, Dearest Readers? I know your smart little brains are just bursting with rainbow-colored imaginations chock-full of perfect blog topics for me to write about. Throw it in the comments. I will even write a story about you, or write a letter to your boyfriend dumping him, or a haiku about pennies! CLEARLY I NEED IDEAS.

Prom, Anyone?

There should be proms for grown-ups.

I mean, seriously. Why is it that once you graduate high school, there aren’t special parties for no reason? Being an adult is great, don’t get me wrong. But there is a big difference between wearing a little black dress out for cocktails and feeling like a princess in a giant gown. And yeah, you get to do that when you get married, but you can only tie the knot like ten times, and around number five, people aren’t going to RSVP. So there should just be like a yearly Big People Fun Dress Up Party Dance Night (or BPFDUPDN).

Besides, teenagers can’t appreciate prom. Half of them are totally ruining their photos with hideous braces-covered smiles, and the other half are too busy making out with awkward boys/girls in braces to really soak up the moment. And they can’t even drink during–some shots would really make it easier for the awkward high school set to hold each other’s clammy hands while they “dance.”

Long story short, I would like an excuse to wear a ball gown. And since I’m not friends with anybody who throws “balls” (well, I am, but not the kind of ball you’re thinking of), I would like someone to create this event.

And if you’re saying, “Fuck that, my high school prom sucked,” well, don’t you think it’ll much better with booze and girls who actually put out? Plus, you don’t have to worry about your parents hearing you come, which is always a bonus.

WHOOOOOO, I’m gonna start online shopping for my BPFDUPDN dress. Someone else take care of the pesky details like the venue and the invites, ‘kay?

I think I'm buying this one.

Put This in Your Cookbook

How to Have a Good St. Patty’s Day: the Recipe

Ingredients:

  • Slutty green clothes (1 pair)
  • Alcohol (6 shots/3 mixed drinks; add more to taste)
  • Loud bar with grindy dance music and strobe lights (1)
  • Friends (any number; must be flavorful)
  • Money (a lot)

Directions:

  1. Put on slutty clothes with friends.
  2. Go to bar.
  3. Buy mixed drinks. Mix them liberally with friends and bar.
  4. Buy shots. Shake vigorously on the dance floor.
  5. Black out.

Seriously, it’s foolproof. Way easier than whipping up some souffle or whatever-the-fuck with Martha Stewart-level difficulty and weird foreign ingredients.

Half-Drunk Is a Waste of Money

I got a little tipsy last night. And by “tispy” I mean dancing, double-fisting drunk.

Seriously, though, there are few joys in life as great as getting bombed. First of all, it makes you happy (unless you’re one of those dicks who starts crying the second the Keystone is cracked). I mean, what? Magic liquid that washes away sadness? It’s like something out of a geeky fantasy book.

Secondly, name one thing that isn’t improved with alcohol. Add “drunk” to the beginning of any activity and it becomes 1,000 times better. Sledding = drunk sledding! Dinner with the parents = drunkenly listening to old people’s stories! I mean, which sounds better to you, dancing or drunk dancing? I thought so.

Of course, this might be my raging alcoholism talking, but even though I got pretty hammered last night, I think that might be in the cards for this evening too. And, let’s be honest, tomorrow as well. Life is short, and I would rather spend my precious minutes in a Midori-sour-induced haze than any other way.

Plus (thirdly? Fourthly? I don’t know, my brain is floating in vodka instead of cerebrospinal fluid) it gives you lots of good stories. When you’re old, would you rather tell your grandkids about how you stayed in every night and played Battleship, or would you like to start stories with, “When I drank that bottle of Jack…” I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be a legend. (Whoa nelly, that sounds a little epic for a post about how much I love to drink. But you know what I mean, Internet.) Whatever, go mix yourself a little something sweet (with about 40% alcohol by volume).

Fake New Year’s Resolutions

I have never really been one for New Year’s Resolutions. Mostly because I know I won’t stick to them, especially if they’re about exercise (Running. Is. So. Boring. And I used to do track, but seriously, that’s why I was a sprinter. If I could just run a 200 and call it a day, maybe I’d work out). And it seems kinda bleak and depressing to kick off the new year by ruining all the grand plans I had for it during Week One.

So instead, I don’t make any resolutions. In the spirit of 2011, though, here are some potential ones that I wish I could actually do, although that’ll never happen so I’m not even going to try (I’m a real champ):

  1. Stop finding Kanye West attractive. Just stop. (Normally, I hate hate double-hate loathe cocky guys, especially ones with diamonds for bottom teeth. But Kayne West is just the exception that proves the rule. Although I may have accidentally stumbled across some semi-nude pictures of him and he has a monster bush, so that might help me stop thinking he’s sexy.)
  2. Stop procrastinating EVERYTHING. Fuck it, I’ll just do that in 2012 (see what I did there?!?!?).
  3. Learn to do a cartwheel. I feel like if I could do cartwheels I would just do them everywhere I went, yelling, “WHEEEEE!” while I pinwheeled around everyone in circles. A good idea? No. But totally boss? Yes.

Yum. I can still say that since it's only 2010.

 

Well, that’s three. That is a lot of fake resolutioning I did there.

Seriously, though, what are you sitting around reading this blog for? Go buy something sparkly (and I don’t mean coke with glitter in it, revelers) and start mixing up fifty kegs of Jungle Juice. Stop thinking, start drinking! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!

 

 

Friday, the Sexiest Day of the Week

Oh, Friday, you beautiful sexy day, you, thanks for showing up!

Seriously, Friday is the best day. Well, Friday night. Because the week is over, and you have a whole glorious weekend stretching out ahead of you, but it’s not like Saturday night, where you know it’s Sunday the next day (and nobody likes Sundays). Clearly, this is why people drink on Friday: to celebrate the weekend FINALLY coming!

So. I officially declare today Weekend Celebration Day! Everybody grab a friend and a forty and get messy.

Unfortunately for my getting-messy priorities, I have a cash flow issue. The issue being, there is no cash flowing anywhere near me. Or my wallet. Or my bank account. Or even on the ground in front of me, so I could pick it up. But I am determined to make this a good Friday (ha) because finals are coming up, and everyone’s stressy and miserable and Adderal’d out.

The bigger question is, what to wear? Earlier I was wearing a plaid shirt under a beaded silver vest, and at first I felt really cool, and then after a while I was thinking to myself, “Wow, I look like a disco lumberjack.” That is the problem with my wardrobe. There is never anything in it that I want to be seen in. Maybe I’ll just wrap myself in a sheet and bring back the toga party.

Either way, excitement levels at having two whole days without Accounting (fuck you, numbers, fuck you very much) are high.