Actually, you're totally invited. That's just a line from a Luna song that's been in my head this morning. And if you could pick up some ice on your way over, that would be awesome.
The party I'm having tonight was originally supposed to be an "I'm leaving Capitol Hill" party, as well as a Capitol Hill Block Party Kick-Off Extravaganza (the party's official title). But since the Hill is going to be stuck with me for a little while longer, the party has now become an "I'm moving into a studio and may never be able to fit this many people into my home ever again" party. With tasty snacks.
And I'm looking forward to it, because I haven't had anything you could legitimately called a party since Christmas of, what, 2002? I have visions of myself as an indefatigable hostess, gracefully filling glasses, making witty small talk, and gliding from group to group making sure that everyone is having a lovely time.
In reality, of course, I'll hand out cheap beers until I get too tipsy, and then completely forget to circulate. I'd like to think otherwise but history has a tendency to repeat itself.
Unfortunately, I apparently picked the hottest night of the year to try to cram a bunch of people in my house. It's getting up to 95 degrees or so both today and tomorrow, and like everyone else in Seattle, I don't have air conditioning. A week ago I kidded around about having a naked make-out portion of the party, but now it's starting to seem like a pretty good idea.
Well, the naked part anyway. I never let anyone touch me after the temperature passes 87 degrees.
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