The holiday party invitations are rolling in, and I am thrilled. I've been waiting all year for this opportunity to be a guest at a party. To wear my I'm workin' this event (not my I'm working this event) dress complete with a shiny new accessory - my hubby.
But this year, every glorious invitation, even the yearly "bribe-beg-or-steal-to-get-on-the-list-of-this-must-attend-shindig" invitation has an unhappy surprise - It's a luncheon party! and as an incentive (since there's no flowing alcohol to guarantee attendance) for guests to leave their homes or work in the middle of the day and trek across town, there'll be bowling and karoke and even a chance to shop for holiday gifts. Great! but I was looking forward to double fisting glasses of champagne from your open bar, not chasing gutter balls down the lane and sipping on Arnold Palmers. I know, you're trying to save me money too. I don't have to go shopping for a shiny new party dress, but isn't that the whole point of the holiday party?
Okay, I get it. The economy has tanked, and you can't afford to drunken 300 of your closest colleagues and clients, so you're looking for alternative ways to host your year-end celebration. However, once your annual party has slipped below guest expectations, it's hard to get them to return the following years (especially if they have to shell out money for tickets). I say cancel the party altogether or keep it going like the band on the Titantic (even though the ship is sinking). I'm willing to skip a party one year, which is exactly what I'm going to do this year, and no, you can't lure me to your middle-of-the-day bowling alley fiesta with prizes either. Instead, I'll make hubby and myself Sparkletinis and we'll drink them from the handmade cut crystal martini glasses you gave me as a holiday present when business was good, and look forward to celebrating better days with you in the future.