Goodbye, Porpoise Spit!

I'm not sure if you've read the memo yet, but the town is abuzz with the news that we're throwing another party. It's a going-away party. MY going-away party. It's supposed to be a joint party since my flatmate Fish's parents rather annoyingly ill-timed his birth to coincide 27 years later with my party - but who really cares about that because haven't you heard, IIIIIiii'm going away.

Our last party was a soirée of gargantuan proportions. We themed it Russian, due to us having a surprising number of Russians within our circle at that time and because by god, didn't it sound badass to be necking vodka by the Cossack hat-full.

We cooked all kinds of Russian delicacies for the occasion. Incidentally, there are numerous dishes you can choose from when undertaking a Russian night; but for some reason they all contain shaved egg. Will, our resident dessert sergeant-at-arms pulled out all the stops and made a white Russian slice cut into little Tetris pieces. I'm sure you don't need reminding that Tetris was invented by a Russian, because like, that's just elementary stuff really. We met up in the afternoon to start the cooking, but even still it took Will most of the night to put this dally of a dessert together. He was so wasted on vodka by the end of it that he wiped out mid conversation, causing him to injure his coxis (arse bone). My biggest regret of the night was that I missed it - that and the incident where I abused a wall for not being perpendicular enough. Ah regrets. *sniff*

Anyway, like I was saying, we're having another one. This time the theme is 'English High Tea'. Just this afternoon I sent out a very clever text message invitation where I used lots of adequately themed phrases such as 'dear chaps' and 'ever so grateful' and poncy shit like that. You know, the REALLY funny stuff. When I told Monny two days ago what the theme was, she misheard me and sent out an invitation to a party where the theme was 'English I.T.'; so you know it's going to make for a pretty interesting night.

But here's the thing; because it's my see-you-later-thanks-for-all-the-fish going away party, there's no real way of avoiding incongruities in attendance. To put it another, significantly less nerdy way:


Ex-girlfriends are coming.



A few actually.




Bout 5.


..



But fear not dear reader, because like any other dull-witted group of males bent on their own survival, my mates and I have concocted a FOOLPROOF plan. It goes like this: We're going to tell them that the party starts an hour earlier than it actually does. When they arrive, I'll sit them all around in a circle, introduce everybody, point out the ones who had sex with me and the ones who didn't obviously because they had unreconciled self-esteem issues, and say:



"I got everyone together like this because I just didn't want anyone feeling unnecessarily uncomfortable. Nowwww discuss."




As I said, foolproof. It should be around this time that Will falls over again in the kitchen, thereby making the circle of hilarity complete.





Man, if only everything was this easy.




(Pre-emptive disclaimer to current lady l'armoire: You're looking very pretty today and i love you)