*Disclosure – Most names and identities have been changed in order to protect the
When I opened my eyes I first registered the soft glow of the early morning light streaming into the bedroom above the curtain rod. I looked over at the clock – 6:17 am. I could see both clearly.
Uh-oh, that’s not a good sign. It means I went to bed without removing my contacts.
Next I noticed my left knee hurt. Did I fall? Did I stumble into something? No clue.
My mouth felt like a herd of elephants had trampled through it overnight.
I was still wearing my Madonna clothes, minus the boots, necklaces, earrings and rubber bracelets. Ummm, did I do that or did someone else? I had no recollection at all.
Then I waited. Waited for the pain, nausea and general malaise to wash over me. Waited to feel like absolute garbage, but strangely, it wasn’t happening.
I needed to go to the bathroom, but didn’t want to move. I was afraid that if I did the inevitable hangover would kick in. The following thought actually crossed my mind:
“How bad would the clean up be, really, if I shit the bed right now?”
And then it hit me. I missed it. I missed my own 80s party because I got S.H.I.T.F.A.C.E.D. and passed out during the height of it.
I MISSED IT!!!
Ohhh the regret! The absolute sadness I felt! I planned for this party for weeks; thought through every detail. I wrote about each and every bit of minutiae I could think of relating to throwing 80s party – the fashion, the quiz questions, the food, the music. How could I allow this to happen? Oh what had I done?!?! As I lay there in bed the few memories I had crashed over me with full force. I rolled my eyes – Oh Dear Lord. Boy, did I have some ‘splainin to do.
I couldn’t stay there any longer. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Had to face the music. After s l o w l y moving to get out of bed I walked to the bathroom. “That’s weird”, I thought, “I feel great.” It was 6:25 am.
I went into the bathroom, took care of business, washed the tri-colored eye shadow from my lids and then changed into yoga pants and a tank. Ugghh. What mess awaited me in the kitchen?
I tip-toed down the hallway not wanting to wake Charlie. I didn’t know when he went to bed and I certainly didn’t want to wake him this early. I turned the corner into the kitchen. My jaw hit the floor.
It sparkled like Christmas morning.
The food was gone, presumably thrown away. All of my entertaining dishes were perched upside down on the counter, washed and drying on towels. I hung my head and slumped my shoulders covered in guilt with a side of humiliation.
Here’s how I got to this point:
Friday, May 11th, the day before my 80s party. I took the day off from work in order to get the cleaning done, any food ready that I could and anything else that might pop up. My house was already decorated with the fabulous 80s posters I bought through Amazon. And I smiled broadly every time I looked at each of them – they made me so giddy I just couldn’t wait to hang them. I got Emma on the bus at 7 am and went to work right away with getting things done. Tasks were coming together quickly and I was pleased with my progress. I even took some time to do a little dancing in between cleaning. By the time Emma and Charlie got home I was dog tired and took a catnap on the couch.
I went to bed at my normal, “weeknight” time, 10 pm. Then for no reason at 2:30 am – DING!! I was wide freakin’ awake. The only reasoning I can offer for this is that I was so excited it was finally May 12th. I lay there until 4 desperately trying to go back to sleep and finally gave up. I figured I would be totally pissed at myself later when I had a ton more to do and needed to go back to sleep. There’s nothing worse than a tired, cranky party hostess, after all. So I got out of bed, went into the kitchen and started to make my PacMan and Michael Jackson glove cookies (see my previous post, Blinky, Inky, Pinky and Clyde for details on how to make these). Thankfully (because I’m good at party planning), I had made the dough a couple of days before. While drinking coffee, I rolled them, baked them and marked them with a B (I’m totally kidding about marking them with a B, although I did roll and bake them). It was 6 by now and I was cruising! I was so excited – it was finally here – the day of my 80s party!!
I cooked the pasta for pasta salad and put that together. “Damn I’m good!” I thought. I got the filling together for my pepperoni bites (see my previous post, Get In My Belly! for details on how to make these). By this time I had to get myself together to go teach Zumba class.
Class ended and was flying high by the time I got home. After a quick shower to get the stink off, I had more coffee and a cheese stick and started cooking the bar-b-que sauce for the chicken (I had already cooked, shredded and froze the meat the week before). Sauce & thawed chicken went into the crockpot and I silently congratulated myself on kicking major party preparation ass. Then I sat down to put the icing on the cookies. This took 2 hours. By the time I was done it was 1 pm – 5 hours before the party was to start. “I’m so good at this!” I thought proudly. I was SO excited!!!
I decided to go take a nap and slept for 2 magnificent hours. I felt so great when I woke and started getting really pumped – the countdown was on – 3 hours left until party time!
I showered again and dressed. And oh how fabulous my 80s garb was! I found electric blue leggings at Target, a tu-tu looking black skirt thingy at Goodwill for $3.00 (SCORE!), a lacy sleeveless black top to wear over a black bra at some slutty store in the mall. I was SO gonna look the part!! Thanks to ridiculous amounts of hairspray and pomade my hair looked like a rat’s nest and I held it back, of course, with a black bow I had fashioned by cutting up an old shirt. 3 different shades of eye shadow, pink, green and blue, went on my lids even though no one would be able to see them behind my badass Ray Ban Wayfarer knock-offs. My lips were bright red. I was bouncing off the walls.
Practicing this move since the 'Dress You Up' video debuted on MTV.
Thank God I could finally use it.
I was SOOOO excited!!!
Although it was very difficult, I refrained from listening to any of the 80s music loaded on my iPod. I wanted to savor every note during the actual party along with my guests. So instead, I danced along with Cee-Lo Green, Beyónce and Katy Perry.
I was SOOOOO excited!!!
Charlie had taken care of getting all of the outside stuff together at ‘Swing Bar’ (This will be explained in a future post; it wasn’t THAT kind of party – get your mind out of the gutter). I just took a few final things (i.e., bottles of liquor) out back, along with my iPhone to hook up to the stereo. I had a smile on my face the whole time – could barely contain myself! I hit play and started the 80s music!
I was SOOOOOO EXCITED!
The clock struck 6.
“HOT DAMN! It’s time! I’m SOOOOOOO EXCITED and I’m gonna have a drink now!”, I thought to myself. I broke out the blender, added ice, and my Total Wine procurements: vodka, coffee liquor and Irish cream, hit ‘Mix’ and then poured the Mudslidey chocolatey goodness into a martini glass. The effects of the pure-alcohol elixir took their effect on the second sip. I felt loose and fun. (Note to the reader – this is foreshadowing at its finest.)
The first guests pulled into the driveway; a lovely couple Charlie works with so I had to behave. I set the drink down and put on the charm. I offered the woman a drinky-winkie from inside the kitchen. She accepted and into the house we went. Next thing I know my kitchen is full of people laughing at each other’s 80s clothes and getting drinks from the blender and the rum punch I had already mixed. I couldn’t let them drink alone so I picked up my glass again. We moved into the living room where I had hung all my 80s posters with pride. We laughed at the ridiculousness of our teen years, sung along with ‘Jesse’s Girl’ and sipped our refreshments. It was really hot inside so we “took it out back”. More people had shown up, including Heather Locklear (who was sick most of the week) and I was PSYCHED to see that she was able to make it. She was dressed in a neon-off-the-shoulder number and made my heart swell. Her husband, Fabio, was wearing a warm up suit with a headband and I thought that was unusual (and kinda lame) because he is usually so fun with this kind of stuff. Oh well, I get it, it wasn’t Halloween after all.
Hey Molly Ringwald, we ALL loved Jake Ryan.
A few pictures were snapped and my sides were hurting from laughing so hard over how great everyone looked. Leg warmers made an appearance as did popped collars, lace-top ankle socks with heels, crimped hair and Miami Vice jackets. I was running around making sure people had what they needed, checking the food in the oven and smiling from ear-to-ear like a complete ruh-tard. Thanks to the Mudslide I was feeling NO pain. Now, I don’t know what possessed me to do this, but I refilled my martini glass at this time. Food was ready and I flung open the back door with the intention of letting my guests know they could eat. Instead my dear, dear friends from a former job, Luke, Laura and Bobbie Spencer had just arrived and were walking up onto the deck. They promptly laughed their asses off at the sight of me. I was SOOOOOOOOOOO EXCITED!!! I took them inside and got them squared away with the wine they brought. Just a few minutes later we made our way outside to join the rest of the partiers. As we got to where everyone else was hanging out, Laura Spencer says to me, “So who are all these people?”
She couldn’t have set it up for me any more perfectly. I have ALWAYS wanted to do this… I took a deep breath, smiled and proclaimed…
“Everyone, this is Luke, Laura and Bobbie Spencer; Luke, Laura and Bobbie Spencer – this is… Everyone.” Just like that scene in ‘Sixteen Candles’. I was living the dream.
I took a moment to savor the scene. My guests were having fun. If they weren’t playing games or singing along with the 80s songs or filling out the 80s trivia quiz, they were laughing at the people who were. I sure as hell was having fun. And I carried my martini glass with me everywhere.
At this point, Heather Locklear’s husband announced he had a reveal. Oooohhhh! The music was turned down, voices kinda hushed, cameras appeared from nowhere and the sun even shone a little brighter with anticipation. And then he removed his warm up suit (complete with break away pants) to display this little gem:
It was on. Thanks to Fabio, the tipping point of the party was crossed and CHAOS ENSUED.
Boys chased girls. Girls chased boys. Blondie was thrown to the ground by Fabio only to have him do push-ups over her perpendicularly!
Much alcohol was consumed. There were demonstrations of making out in the corner at a junior high dance, reminiscent of this…
There was a lot of dry humping of inanimate objects (trash cans, tables, beer coolers, etc.). There were costume changes, a moment of silence for MCA and a very energized, heartfelt recitation of ‘Paul Revere’ (I’m pretty sure this was recorded on Ted Nugent and Bob Marley’s iPhones and I must remember to kill them both in the very near future in order to destroy the evidence). Prizes for the quiz were announced by Charlie. 3rd place went to Heather Locklear who received a ziploc bag of plastic Banana Clips. Bret Michaels took 2nd and was awarded a snazzy ConAir Curling Brush complete with original packaging. The GRAND PRIZE, a 25-year-old VCR, went to Molly Ringwald.
The whole party was glorious! Just like a John Hughes 80s teen movie. Only it was happening at my house.
At this point (I think) I was called into a game of beer pong. I suck at beer pong. So in order to combat my ineptness, I employ obnoxious distraction tactics on the opponent. It was easy enough to do because it was girls vs. boys and boys are simple to distract. I can’t believe I’m going to admit this here, but the boys, Ted Nugent and Bob Marley, were about to throw for the final cup. I turned to my game partner, Nina Blackwood, on my left… and licked her boob. Not the whole boob, mind you, just the skin that what was showing above her shirt, but still…
Oh and it worked. The boys missed the shot.
Things were starting to get fuzzy for me around this point. I know stumbling was involved. I vaguely recall having a hard time keeping the Pac-Man cookie I was chewing in my mouth, Heather Locklear telling me I should put flip-flops on and having to pee a lot.
I do remember one lucid moment where I thought this was bullshit because I had only had 2 measly drinks. Apparently they weren’t so measly (she said with her eyebrows raised while leaning in towards you a bit). I don’t really know what happened to me next. I have a cloudy recollection of someone putting me to bed. I think I said stupid shit to them too because ‘Drunk Jen’ thinks she’s sooooo funny! Ugghh. (Please don’t tell me. I do not want to know.)
Thankfully, I did one thing right before the party started – I put my camera out on the table next to the stereo. And although I passed out when things really started getting good, my fabulous friends took care of me and made sure I didn’t miss it after all. This is how they did it…
Blondie instructed Molly Ringwald to start taking pictures. Then Blondie totally
There are pics of sweet looking Blondie kissing my 8×10 Jon Bon Jovi poster. There are pics of silly looking Blondie, Bret Michaels and Andre Agassi licking said Jon Bon Jovi poster. There are pics of estatic looking Blondie making my Jon Bon Jovi poster motorboat her boobs. There are pictures of seductive-looking Blondie shoving my Jon Bon Jovi poster under her skirt. There are pics of zombie looking Blondie showing off her Thriller-esque pose in front of my Michael Jackson poster. There are pics of puppy love-looking Blondie petting my 24×36 Ferris Bueller poster while both were laying on the ground. She looks CRAZY in each pic and every time I look at these I laugh to the point of tears. It was like the movie ‘The Hangover’ in that the main character (me) goes M.I.A. and the friends take a mess of incriminating pictures so they can all laugh (and remember what happened) once it’s all over. Of course, I can’t show them to you here because I still want Blondie to be my friend. But know this ~ Everyone should have friends like Blondie and Molly Ringwald. Oh, how I love them!
The next day I received reports that Heather Locklear had to pull over on the ride home so Fabio could puke, and Andre Agassi, Ted Nugent, and Charlie spent extended hours in bed. In the days that followed, I had MANY attendees text, email and call to say it was absolutely fantastic and exactly what THEY needed. I like to think that this party helped them to forget about mortgage payments and diapers and stressful jobs for a little while. To remember a time when the word ‘Party’ was a verb and their only care in the world was when and where the next one would be.
So that’s what happened. I was too excited, ate a mother fucking cheese stick the whole day and got annihilated on 2 Mudslides. But you know what?
IT WAS THE BEST PARTY I’VE EVER HAD.
It was so good I think I need to do it again. Yep – just have to have another 80s party. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate it, but a girl has to have a goal, right?