Party Central

Yes, this is how we refer to my house. No, it's not that kind of party. THIS kind of party:

But with slightly different Tupperware colors. I was going to say different hairstyles, but I think all of these are back in fashion. I think I have that smock, too.

Criminy. I need new clothes.

Anyway. We had the party last night, with very few people and ridiculous amounts of food. Because if you don't have more food than is good for ten times the population of the gathering, it's just not a successful party. It doesn't have to be fancy food, it doesn't have to be a great variety of food. There just needs to be way too much of it. There should always be enough to provoke this conversation:

Roommate: Here, take this.

Guest: Oh, no, I couldn't.

Roommate: No, really. Take it.

Guest: Well, you're sur--

Roommate: Yes. I'm sure.

This is normally followed by the usual death threats [from me] if Tupperware is not returned. Yes, I am serious. Look, it's Tupperware. I adore Tupperware. For once, it's not a short-lived obsession.

Our Tupperware consultant loves doing parties at my house because she doesn't need to bring 90% of her display kit; I already have it. We went to my baking cupboard last night to see the Modular Mates.

Modular Mates. They stack together. They hold a lot of---Oh, just look:

See?

I love my Modular Mates.

Oh! During the party, two of our guests, Adriane and Amber, shared a story about their three-year-old, who is my pal, Mr. D. [I adore him, too, but in a different way than the Tupperware.] Evidently, he was playing with his dominoes at the table when Mom [Amber] hit the wrong switch and turned off the light over the table. Mr. D looked up with surprise and indignation and said:

"Seriously??? I was playing here."

Yeah. He's three.

God save the world.