2000-06-08

Margarita-what?

So I'm planning a li'l shindig here for this weekend, for no real reason other than I just feel like having a shindig, when I decide that what I really want are margaritas. Kev and I were at The House of Krebstar� two weeks ago and I was served a most delicious margarita out of a real, live margarita glass. Upon peering into the KrebPantry�, I was astounded at the sheer number of margarita glasses owned by my Gracious Hosts�.

"Holy Shit, Jess, you have an assload of margarita glasses!" I marvelled, "We don't have any!"

Jess looked at me quizzically. "You mean you didn't ask for margarita glasses when you got married?"

I thought back to that Orgy of Mindless Materialism known as Registering for Wedding Presents. Kev and I joyfully romped through our local Crate&Barrel, picking out all kinds of stuff, assiduously marking patterns and stock ID#s on the provided form as we did so. After the Blessed Event, we ended up with 4 champagne flutes, 4 small wine goblets, 4 large wine goblets, and about eleventy-seven billion Pilsner glasses, but no appropriate glassware from which to drink a margarita. Had we not asked for such a thing? What the hell were we thinking?

So now I'm in a quandary. I really should have margarita glasses on hand, if I'm any kind of decent hostess. The hardware-n-homegoods store down the street from work has �em, for $2.99 each. Really not a bad deal, and I like this particular store, which my office-mates and I have dubbed "Punk Rock Hardware" due to the unusual number of Old School� punkers who work there. I know I'm not going to find them any cheaper, unless I go for total tackiness and buy plastic ones. Really, what would that say to my guests? Why, I'd never live it down.

Problem is right now, I am sans wallet. I left it at home, so I am unable to do any of things I had planned for after work. I wanted to get my hair cut, since my ordinarily boyish cut is beginning to bloom bowl-like around my noggin, and while that Dorothy Hamill �do looked real cute when I was seven, I'm just not having it today. Not today, not ever.

This means that I will have to run around tomorrow, when what I really wanted to do was go home and clean the house. Not that it's a disaster or anything, and my friends aren't really the types who'd go inspecting the caulking around my bathtub, but I like things to be somewhat orderly before spilling tequila all over the place.

Oh, well.

lisamcc at 18:21:10

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