I just came back from truly a remarkable party. The affair was the 40th birthday party for a very dear friend of mine and a friend of hers that was also turning 40 (the new 20!)
It was a beautiful catered event on a gorgeous 5 acre mini estate (huge house, swimming pool, tennis court, large staff, planted grounds, etc.). The champagne was flowing, the hor d’oeuvres were being passed, the 3 station buffet was being set up and the company was fine. Everything and I mean everything was perfect, except the band.
Now, listen. I love music (almost as much as I love food), and I looooooovvvve to dance. I am often the first and the last person on the dance floor at any given event. I can get down and boogie to most music; funk, soul, reggae, hip hop, new wave, old wave, disco, pop, you name it, my hips and I are there. However, what I cannot dance to, and will not dance to is heavy metal and hard rock.
As the band were friends of the hosts, I tried to be a good guest. I politely cheered after their first set. I happily applauded after the second set. I grinned and bounced my head during the third set. However during “dinner hour” when the song “Die, Bastard Die!!!” came on, I had had enough. I mustered enough courage and sweetly asked if they could please change the music? Perhaps some 80’s (my favorite decade!) or even 90’s music?Maybe a little Madonna, Michael Jackson, Stones, or some old disco? You know, the kind of music played at bar mitzvahs and weddings. Anything other than this loud, blasting noise being played all night and forced on my fellow guests too well-mannered to complain.
I was assured that they were preparing a large “80’s set” and was quickly dismissed.
As I sulked away, I headed to the buffet table and ate…and ate….and ate. I blame my subsequent inhalation of mountains of truffle infused creamy macaroni and cheese, double fisted bar b que pulled pork sandwiches and multiple plates of birthday cake on the band.
Normally I would be shaking my money-maker on the dance floor, working out my flabby arms and legs to the music, however since I could not get “into the this groove”, I was forced, and I mean forced to eat everything in sight. My actions were in direct contrast to the advice I gave in my earlier post, “short and sweet” (or salty,savory, sour, etc). In that post I urged you all to eat “short and sweet”, basically eating until you are pleasently full and then moving yourself away from the proximity of the leftovers therby avoiding mindless munching. English dramatist, William Congreve wrote in his play The Mourning Bride, (1697) that “music soothes the savage beast.” However, if he was with me last night, he might have re-thought that famous quote to “food soothes the savage beast”. My growing frustrations over this music could only be assuaged by stuffing my face full of carb-laden and calorie-rich food.
My advice to you should you ever be in a situation like mine? Bring earplugs, tape your mouth shut except for a little hole for a straw to fit and then proceed to drink everything in sight until completely comatose. Unless, you were like me, “the designated driver“, in which case I commiserate with you but please learn from my mistakes; food soothes the savage beast but it’s a bitch to work off the next day.
Chow for now!