My weekend

So my roommates and I threw a party this past weekend. A soire if you must. We prepared classy food items, cleaned the apartment, and required guests to bring liquor, well wine to be specific. We are grown up after all and BYO Budweiser is sooo college. It was a party in which we emulated that upper middle class twenty-something urban individuals so prominently featured in movies and television.

The mood was set with low lights and candles around the room. A sample of easy listening bossa nova emanated from the ipod/speaker/sound system. Our friends arrived fashionably late, in a variety of hip outfits and bottles of wine in brown paper bags. Girls wore sleek jeans, sexy lacy tops, blazers and boots. Boys wore loose fitting jeans, button-down shirts or turtleneck sweaters, and loafers. People munched on appetizers and balanced wine glasses in their hands. Some chatted on the sofa, others stood in circles talking about work or the movies.

In one corner, we had set up a wine tasting game. (For those of you who attended: they were both pinot noirs, number one was more expensive from the Willamette Valley in Oregon, and number two was from France.) Friends goaded each other into trying to answer incorrectly.

As the night progressed and bottles were piling up in the recycling bin, different circles of friends began comingling. Those who are eccentric, and you know who you are, fulfilled their duties by keeping me highly entertained with plans of their bookstore/discotech. In kitchen, I spent my time sipping wine, shooting the breeze with old friends and new ones.

At the end of night after most of the guests parted ways,I convinced some guy to slow dance with me to Journey's "Open Arms." Steve Perry's raspy voice, 5 glasses of red, and twirling around the room took me back to the 7th grade when I got to slow dance with Eric S. at the Y.I.S.S. Junior High's Spring Social. I wonder where he is now?

Two of my roommates and I decided to leave the cleaning to the next morning, and snacked on leftover appetizers while draining the last bottles of wine. The party was a success. We trudged into our rooms for a well earned sleep.
Sunday morning I woke up at 8:30am because I forgot to pull the blinds the night before. Boo! But I did wake up hangover free. Horay! I was a little bit sleepy, but staying in bed just was not going to work. I grudgingly left my room, to make my way to the living room. First I attempted to clean up, but realized most of my roommates (except for the one with a meeting that morning) were sleeping. So instead I dragged our TV back into the living room to watch Spartan. (A fantastic movie by the way.) Slowly everyone emerged from their rooms, and the cleaning frenzy began.

Then my roommates plus one boyfriend congregated into the living room with the Sunday Times and breakfast. They read out loud stories of serial killers and Mary Kate Olsen's influence on fashion. Later that day after naps, we reconvened to watch the Terminal. This movie was ridiculously awful, but we sat through it with our own running commentary.

I attempted to work in the evening. My roommate, an elementary school teacher-to-be, distracted me with a tween novel. I read "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" cover to cover, fully aware that I was twice the age of the characters in the story and three times the age of its average reader.
So here I am Monday morning, extending my weekend by writing this blog. It was a fantastic weekend of: wine, friends, dancing, an Olsen twin story, sleep, a good book and no work.