Tommy Boy and his roommate invited folks over for a Halloween Party tonight and Tommy Boy texted yesterday and said I needed to come. So last minute I searched through my disorganized crap closet to find some wings from an old costume and I tried to throw together some type of fairy(?) costume. I even stopped at wal-mart and picked up false eyelashes because somehow that makes a costume official.
So I went. And it was awful. Too many people trying to impress too many other people. It was loud. The food was gross. My eyelids now itch from the fake eyelash glue. My left wing got bent somewhere in the night. And all night Jen, my new enemy in the ward, flirted her cat self (she was a cat for Halloween, of course it was a "not too risque, but a little seductive" cat costume) all over Tommy Boy, who dressed as Buddy Holly (how appropriate is that, full of himself, Rivers Cuomo wanna-be). And he was all over it, I'm quite sure. Talking and talking and talking and more talking in the corner. And she giggled, and he probably giggled. And I sat with my cup of homemade rootbeer and gross hot dog and wondered how I became this crooked winged loser.
So I gave Alisa THE LOOK and she returned THE LOOK and we left early. And Tommy Boy didn't even notice when we said goodbye.
This is why I hate social engagements. I remember now why I stopped all that around 25.
