On my way out for an evening walk it became deafening obvious the neighbours were having a party.
Not having any other plans (and a brand new Anna Scott dress) I decided to crash it.
Judging by the sounds (aka the bass) pounding from the adjacent backyard it was decidedly a younger crowd. So, I quickly dropped off the dog and dressed for the bash. A little difficult, despite the outdoor nature of the party, as the eight foot privacy fence made it more than hard to see what exactly was going on.
Not only that, I had never met these people so know very little about them.
Keeping in mind that I am not the stealthy type (you have to talk to the Newf for that kind of business) I enact the blunt method of party crashing. I knock on the door and say, "Hey", "Hello", "What's shakin' ", essentially, whatever greeting matches the creature that opened the door.
Well, this is a definite MUST HAVE list for crashing a party like an A-lister:
1.) Attitude - No one will ever let you crash a party if you don't look like you belong. Meekly knocking on the door and asking to come in will get you nowhere. Confidence and the kinda cool that only comes from knowing you are just-that-hot will get you in almost any door. Early in my party crashing days my attitude came from a bottle.
2.) Alcohol - Especially with a younger or more informal crowd, an obvious excess of alcohol is your ticket into that party. Hey, I never said this would be free. Unless an uninvited someone looks like a hot James Dean, or this guy, they are not getting through my door if I will have to provide them with my own booze. I am taking a risk by letting you in the door, why risk my alcohol too?
If you've ever had to supply liquor to a lush (or a wedding full of Newfoundlanders) you will understand my plight.
3.) Appearance - I am not saying you have to be the next Angelina, but it definitely helps if you gussy yourself up a little bit. Ladies, break out the hardcore mascara and glowing complexion; guys, make sure you shave/trim/comb/whatever it is you do. Try to dress the part, using as much information as you have.
Tonight I knew very little, however, I did know:
- The hosts either lived, or were close with someone who lived, in a very expensive house. Judging by others in my neighbourhood and the general decorations of the inhabitants of said house it was safe to say that brand names would impress.
- They enjoyed "chugging" and loud music, the loud bass told me they had not yet had the enjoyment of yelling, "What?!? I can't hear you!" at a party with loud bass. This screamed high school or first year university.
- The party was taking place outside and carefully selected dance and house were blasting across the yard. This means informal drinking, dancing and the possibility of a pool were the main attractions.
As such I dressed to impress a younger crowd: a hot halter bikini (top and bottom) and a black, clingy, low cut V-neck, jersey dress. Topped it off with neon polish on the toes and matching lipstick and I was good to go. The key was to make an impression without totally standing out. If you are crashing and blinding at a party you quickly become the one everyone is whispering about, no matter how good your game.
In my arms I carried just over half a 24 of Sleeman's Original Draught and a large (read 750 mL) lidded cup complete with my own personal beverage.
I was ready to go. I smoothly and steadily approached the house; never go too fast on approaching, someone is bound to see you. I knocked on the door and a (cute!) boy answered! I smiled coyly, gave him my best "I'm just SO MUCH fun" look and huskily breathed "It sounded like you guys could use this" while motioning at my beer. As he took the beer I started dancing with my shoulders - if I had been wearing a shorter dress I would have danced with my bottom.
He invited me in, even giving me a slight bottom pat on the way through the door.
Damn I can be smooth sometimes.
If a girl had answered I would have immediately complemented whatever she was wearing (or any other obvious, nonsexual part), told her I lived next door and mentioned my husband. Assuming she likes boys I have done two things: admitted inferiority by complementing her and providing information she could share with the rest of the group and disarmed her by admitting I was no threat to her conquests of the night, as I already have a (committed) man.
Unfortunately the party was broken up a mere half hour after my entrance.
It was a party of young (drunk) adults, enough to know I was unlikely to make any lasting connections.
This became completely obvious when the police broke the party up.
Oh well, not all is lost. My new jersey dress has been broken in and now, if I need to move something heavy I have a number of young boys who owe me a favour (because we all know I am not getting that beer back).
The Newf can certainly move things heavy but why would he when his wife is wearing a hot jersey dress?
Unfailingly yours,
L
No comments:
Post a Comment