Party like it's 1999For some reason, my husband and I have amazingly fun friends.  I have no idea how we got so lucky to have so many fun people in our lives.  I like to tell myself it’s this blog that makes me so popular, but I’m pretty sure it’s only popular in retirement homes and prisons (or at least so says my Google Analytics statistics).

So when we were invited to a pre-rehab party at our friends’ new house, we immediately said yes.  Our friends purchased a house and are going to rehab it before moving in.  The party was a christening of sorts, and I couldn’t have been more excited.  A pre-rehab house party is my kind of party.  I could spill wherever and whenever I wanted to.  Perfect.

Because they hadn’t yet moved into the house, we knew it would be a bare bones party.  Don’t worry.  I checked beforehand to make sure food would be served.  Otherwise, our RSVP would have been quite different.  This wasn’t only a BYOB kind of party, but also BYOC (bring your own chair).

Yeah, that kind of party.  I considered bringing bean bag chairs but figured they would be hard to transport and I knew if I sat in one of those after a few drinks I would never get back out again. (They seriously suck you in…like a cult, or True Blood.)

My husband and I packed our cooler full of libations, grabbed our portable chairs, and headed to the party.  We pulled up to the new house and had to check the address more than once.  Was this really the house they bought?  It was huge and glorious.

Before we even got out of the car we deemed our friends “assholes” for buying such an amazing house.  Part of me wanted to go back home in protest of their new mansion, but I already knew what appetizers were being served and I’m a girl who can be persuaded by french onion dip.  (Always. I can always be persuaded by french onion dip.)

When we walked in the door the house’s awesomeness pretty much punched us in the face. It was a home built in the early 1900s and was enormous.  It had a glorious staircase and a beautiful sitting room with an old time stove.

There were massive windows that were open and bare, without curtains cluttering the view.  The only things missing were Mammy and Miss Scarlett.  (Since there were no curtains, I assumed this home was Tara after the war.)

We took a tour of the house, cursing our friends with each new room we saw.  Almost every entrance to a new room started with one of us emphatically shouting “God dammit!”  It was especially painful when we discovered their master bathroom was larger than both of the rooms in our 2 bedroom house.  Ouch.

After realizing we aren’t doing anything with our lives, we headed back to the main floor to drown our sorrows in alcohol.  By that time, the music had started and my friend Trainwreck (not his real name) was on the mic (and by “mic” I mean he plugged his iPod into the speakers).  Trainwreck has music ADD.

I’m not sure if that’s a medical diagnosis, or something we made up after a few cocktails.  Either way, the bottom line is that he can’t listen to an entire song without changing it. I’m sure on a long road trip this type of characteristic would be annoying, but for a house party, it was awesome.

He knew how to jam and soon there was a circle of people in a room hanging out and screaming the lyrics to “Gangsta Paradise.”  Of course, we weren’t in a circle dancing, we were in a circle sitting in our comfortable chairs.  After all, we aren’t kids anymore.  We have back issues.  (Okay, maybe not everyone has back issues, but this girl’s sciatica can be a real bitch).

dancingIt felt like it was the 90s and we were back in high school and someone’s parents were out of town.  We rocked out to Snoop Dogg and sipped our gin and juice, checking bedrooms occasionally to make sure two couples hadn’t snuck off to get frisky.  Considering nearly everyone at this party was married, we realized it was a slim possibility but we wanted to live like high schoolers again so we pretended.

The dance party raged on, and although Kid n Play didn’t make an appearance, we had a great time anyway.  My husband and I  left the party with mixed emotions.  We were happy to have lived like high schoolers for a night, but we were also bummed to leave the mansion and head back to our 2 bedroom home.  We got in the car and blasted TuPac.  It took away most of the sting.

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