Invite Me To Your Party
Some people are social butterflies. I’m closer to a social fruit fly. Or like, a social stinkbug that laughs at its own jokes and eats all your corn chips. Because of this, I’m not usually one to get invited to parties. Now, I’m sure there are plenty of reasons why I’m not invited to parties. I’m not very cool. My scent has been described as tangy. I’m frequently on juice cleanses, and log a lot of bathroom time. But if I don’t know what the specific reason you’re not inviting me is, I can’t fix it. So, what is it?
Is it because I consider every party a costume party?
Am I the only one around here that thinks Tron: Legacy is one of the best films of all time? So maybe I made an impulse purchase, and bought a light suit on Craigslist. Is that reason alone for me to not get an invite to your party? I can admit it’s a little tight. And perhaps the area around the crotch and ass “doesn’t fit or cover anything at all.” But you have to understand that the use I can get out of this suit is very limited, so of course I’m going to wear it every chance I get. Before you say it; yes, I already know: this is a woman’s light suit. A petite woman’s used light suit. And yes, it is filthy. Am I going to put a light suit through the wash? I don’t think so. If you’re not inviting me because of the light suit, you’re being petty.
Is it because I’m still sensitive about Conan being fired from the tonight show?
Oh so I guess it’s my fault that someone made the mistake of telling me that their friend was on a Jaywalking segment at your last party. And I guess it’s my fault for screaming “TERRORIST” in that person’s face. And I guess it’s my fault for shoving a potato in their exhaust pipe after you threw me out. Would I have done those things had I known that said person was your terminally ill younger sister? Probably not. But still, I thought I had rights as a human being. Apparently we disagree.
Is it because I often bring up the death of my dog and/or grandparents in casual conversation?
I’m sorry you don’t consider euthanasia an appropriate “margarita discussion topic,” but I do. Okay, I guess I can see your point that bringing pictures, locks of hair and ashes might “dampen the partying mood.” And maybe when I force everyone to have a moment of silent reflection it might “ruin the entire night for everyone, every time.” And perhaps requesting the DJ play “Amazing Grace” 13 times in a row is a little “excessive.” But I’d rather you talk to me about it before you just go and neglect to invite me to your party. Don’t you owe me that?
Is it because your cats and I don’t get along?
I’m not a cat person. Everyone knows that. Don’t pretend you didn’t know that. I even had a novelty hat made to express my dislike for cats. It says “Cats<Hats.” It gets a lot of compliments from everyone that’s not you. Yes, I know what you’re going to say: Mr. Fuzz is only a kitten. And yes, I know he’s your kitten. And yes, I know you think it’s “immature” and even “inhumane” to get in a fistfight with a kitten. But I don’t see you patronizing Mr. Fuzz when he scratches me, or rubs his fat up against my legs. I’m allergic. It’s a health risk, and I have a right to defend myself.
Is it because of Peter, my fully-grown male African Lion?
Removing the thorn from his paw made him loyal to only me, it’s not like I can tell him to go somewhere else, you know? And don’t give me that zoo bull crap. You should see how angry he gets when I give him a bath, he wouldn’t do well in a confined space like that. Plus, he’s half neutered. Totally docile, unless you look him in the eyes or in his general direction. If I didn’t get an invite because of Peter, that’s totally unfair.
Is it because I always end up sleeping in your bed?
Because I can change that. I know you get upset that I sleep in your bed. I know you’d like to sleep in your bed, and would probably prefer if I didn’t sleep over at all. And yes, I know you’ve never actually given me permission to sleep in your bed, or at your house. But your bed is so comfortable. And I already entered my sleep number into the sleep number thing. But if that’s the reason you’re not inviting me to this party, I’ll change. I swear I will. If it’s the nudity that weirds you out, I’ll bring pajamas! And I can sleep on the couch, or the floor, or in the dryer! Whatever works for you. But I’d prefer to sleep in your bed.
Is it because I steal?
Because I genuinely thought the yogurt in your fridge was mine. I also thought the money in your bedside drawer was mine, as well as the money in the shoebox under your bed, the prescription heart medication in your bathroom cabinet, and your iguana. He looks literally exactly like my iguana, so you can’t blame me for that.
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This post originally appeared on UNDERWATER BREEDING APPARATUS.
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