Recently a friend told me a story that I just have to share.
Side note: Aren’t you glad I have such interesting friends? Otherwise what the hell would I talk about. I really did something good in my last life to keep such ridiculous company. Or maybe I did something wrong.
My friend and I were talking about high school parties.
I grew up on the prairies and our parties were not just damn awesome, they were bloody amazing.
Now, I realize that this might not sound amazing to you. But even twenty years later, I cannot believe how good these parties were. They were an event.
Okay, who am I kidding? A case of beer was a big event.
But, the good parties, the really, really, really good ones, were on farms. Usually there were maps so that all the high school kids from twenty or so small towns could find the right place. It’s easy to get lost in the prairies. I know it shouldn’t be, because all roads run North, South, East and West. But we were kids and kids are kind of dumb. So, we were glad to have a map.
These were maps that included pictures of rocks “to turn left at” and “old sheds to take a right at”. As soon as you took your last turn passed a dug out, you knew you had arrived at the proper place because you were greeted by 400 kids all wearing “Bum Equipment” sweatshirts and dancing to a “Music Man” playing Right Said Fred’s, “I’m too sexy.”
Back to my friend, she was a city kid, so her parties were a little bit more, um… let’s say sophisticated.
She did host a party, with out her parents permission, that did get a bit out of control. After she had kicked everyone out of her house she thought she was going to get away with hosting the party of the year.
Until her Dad came home and opened the freezer.
No, there wasn’t a kid stuck in it.
Those teenagers got hungry.
And they ate all his Jenny Craig meals.