White Elephant in the Room
It's still Christmas in August! I hosted my holiday party at Hotel Griffou because it's in my neighborhood and quintessential. Quintessential? Who says quintessential? Note in my notepad: Stop saying quintessential.
Griffou has a long shady history of boozy nights and notorious scamps, from Sinatra and Nicholson to Oscar Wilde. And like all good hangouts, it has a grisly murder in its past. A century ago when it was Madame Griffou's boarding house, a young girl was killed by her much older and married lover there, and then he killed himself. I think they still haunt the place. I think that's why Jacques didn't show. #Superstitious.
An important skill when hosting a dinner, by the way, is the ability to adjust the seating when someone doesn't show. When I thought Jacques was coming, I had him seated on my right and LuAnn on my left, because they're good company and I enjoy them. Although I definitely did not enjoy the whooping and scalping jokes at Le Cirque, I wanted to smooth things out. Jacques didn't show, but he got the wine coaster-cock ring. LuAnn came stag and got George. All's well that ends.
Here's the party, in a nutshell. Please sing these lines to the off-key tune of a popular Christmas song with a partridge.
Five espresso cups,
One cock ring.
Ball gaggy thing,
And a fast and skinny lizard on my arm.