But that won’t happen at my party! Anyone could walk into any room to “put down their coat” or “snoop through my shit” (Nice try, suckers! I buried everything embarrassing in the backyard in preparation for this party!) without breaking the holiday spirit.
The food would be inspired by Game of Thrones. Did you know there are websites dedicated to creating recipes inspired by the dishes described in the books and on the show? Obviously, I’ve hired someone who runs a GoT food site to cater. I’m too busy sexually harassing the waiters to cook anything myself. (Don’t worry, they all find me charming, not lecherous and entitled. No, really! It’s like how every guy I know has told me a story about going to Hooters and how the waitress seemed “grateful” to finally have a customer who was “cool and fun.” Definitely not bullshit!)
There’s a game of Yankee Swap with gag gifts once everyone is drunk enough to think a Shake Weight is hilarious. Then a Will Ferrell impersonator performs a scene from Elf once everyone is drunk enough to think it’s actually Will Ferrell. Even though it’s my fantasy, I don’t like the idea that the real Will Ferrell would be willing to come to some jerk’s Christmas party for money.
Everyone gets sent home with a gift bag of candy, the Michael Bublé holiday album, and a very tasteful, very delicate gold necklace in a box buried at the bottom, so they won’t discover it until they get home and then they’ll think what a thoughtful, generous friend I am. Is it extravagant? Yes. But it’s my imaginary money and I’ll spend it how I please. Since everyone’s hammered, the drivers take the guests home safely and work in teams through the night to return their cars by morning. There’s a thank-you note on the windshield, because I have thought of EVERYTHING.
Valentine’s Day
I think the “single gals,” “anti–Valentine’s Day” thing is a little played out. The romantic Valentine’s thing is a little played out, too. I also know that every dude thinks this holiday is a trap; your lady says she doesn’t want to exchange gifts or do anything special, but secretly she wants you to surprise her with something anyway. (I don’t think ladies actually trap men like this, but if you are a lady who does: cut it out, you’re proving those boring dudes right.)
Perhaps a Valentine’s Day party should be left to someone better versed in romance. I’m sort of “the cooler” when it comes to hooking up. I don’t want you to think I’m not fun, I’m just the kind of gal who will find a book of anonymous World War I letters at a house party and sneak away from my crush to read them. Half an hour later he will find me weeping. He’ll tell me to rejoin the party and I’ll reply: “But it’s all just so sad.”
I think about that book more often than I think about that boy.
Nevertheless, I have a potential V-Day party plan. My imaginary Valentine’s Day party is a mock restaurant at my house. I cook a little something, dim the lights, and arrange some candles. It’s not like you can get a reservation anywhere else, so just come over, have a seat at a hastily decorated folding table, and don’t complain about the food, because the chef will spit in your dessert. Couples, singles, gay, straight, cats, dogs, and well-trained lizards are welcome. No babies. If everyone feels like finishing the evening with an orgy, all the better.
St. Patrick’s Day
I grew up in a mostly Irish community and everyone took their heritage pretty seriously. I was plain shocked when I came to LA and found people treating St. Patrick’s Day like a Kermit-colored Mardi Gras.
My St. Patrick’s Day party would take authentic Celtic inspiration—none of this neon-green tomfoolery. Guests are required to wear an Aran Island cable knit, and they will be provided a flat cap and a wooden pipe at the door. A bartender will be present, but only to continually dry the inside of a glass with a rag and supportively nod his head. The beer will be self-serve (and brown, thank you very much—green beer looks like radioactive piss) and the food will be Italian, not Irish, because I don’t hate my friends.
If I invite family I’ll have to hide anything that looks valuable. They wouldn’t steal anything, but they would certainly get drunk and start throwing around terms like “hoity-toity” and asking if I thought I was better than them.
A confession booth will be available, but I’ll find some Unitarian minister and (s)he’ll hand out absolution like it’s flavored vodka at an Iggy Azalea album release party. It won’t get you into heaven, but it’ll be over quickly. Public urination will be acceptable, dirty limericks will receive much bigger laughs than they deserve, and no one can talk about their feelings until they’re blind drunk.
The party game will be a snake pi?ata to commemorate Saint Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland. Yes, I know he didn’t actually do that and that the snakes are druids or pagans or whatever and it’s all some big allegory JUST HIT THE PI?ATA, ALL RIGHT?! YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTAH THAN ME?!