After Party

I went to a barbecue recently, and it was nice, but the fun really started when B, our house-guest, Aram, and I came back and put Ari to bed. When I say that Aram was our house-guest, I mean simply that he was staying overnight in our house. He does not play ping pong. Well, I mean, I think he plays Ping Pong. I certainly hope he plays Ping Pong. We all need Ping Pong! But Aram doesn't play Ping Pong with me. Of course we talk about Ping Pong, in the way all good friends do. But we don't play Ping Pong with each other because that would just be weird.

Now that that's cleared up: we had a barbecue after party, which, like all the best after parties, included guests who did not attend the original party. It did not include Ping Pong. Nevertheless, it was fantastic. Ari was put to bed. Casey (House-guest who does play Ping Pong with me, but did not, on this particular evening, do so) and her husband Kris came over. We drank and talked and stood and sat on the beautiful porch in the beautiful night and listened to beautiful music. I related several stories about squirrels, pigeons, and other pests. Other people told other stories. And then sometimes we were silent, gazing drunkenly into the night, thinking, most likely, about Ping Pong. I told Aram to leave me his shirt when he left in the morning, because I liked it very much, and he did! 

What (H)house-guest did this?

When he got up the next morning, Ari noticed the light was dangling from the ceiling in a rather unusual way. He said, "Mommy, look! What happened?" What happened, indeed. Here is what happened, bitches: I had A Throw Down After Party. I then got up at 7:00 am with my child and managed to be civil to him and feed him breakfast. And then! I fixed the light, washed Aram's shirt, and wore it--well. All without coffee, before 9:00 am, on the morning after My Throw Down After Party. Because I'm a damn superstar, thank you very much.

The end.