Party at my House

My wife is out of town this week. She's in Arizona for a conference. And when the cat's away...

The party's at my house.

And I don't mess around with parties. When I throw a bash, it's legendary. Get ready for an epic fun-filled evening of moderately enjoyable merrymaking.

What kind of party, you ask? A rollicking house party, that's what. The party to end all parties, in fact. Home base will be Bachelor Central, for sure. It's gonna be crazy, for realz.

How will this party go down, many of you may be wondering? Imagine this:

After you kick off your footwear in the foyer (no shoes on the carpet) you'll be delighted by the faint aroma of a Cinnamon Stick Yankee Candle. Not one of those off-brands from Wal-Mart, but a genuine Yankee Candle from Bed, Bath & Beyond. Yeah, cuz that's how I party, yo. Sparin' no expense for my homies.

You want hors d'oevres? Try these Sour Cream 'n' Chive Ruffles on for size. That's all I got, so don't get greedy. I guess we could potluck. Whatever. And there won't be any Jell-o shots. Just Jell-o. With suspended pears.

Actually, I don't have any booze, per se, but there's some cooking sherry in the pantry and you may be able to find half a bottle of Mai Tai mix in the downstairs mini-fridge. Also, feel free to use the Brita.

But please use the coasters. They're there for a reason. No one likes an inconsiderate partygoer. And remember: those toilets don't flush themselves.

How about some music from my iHome MP3 deck/alarm clock? Do you like Phil Collins? I hope so, 'cause that's how I rock the party. With soft rock sing-a-longs. Something in the Air Tonight, indeed.

I don't care if you dance, but be sure to carefully move the coffee table. It's expensive. I'd hate to see someone slip in their sock feet and end up hurt. In fact, just keep the dancing to gentle swaying. That way, everyone can have a good time. It's all fun and games until someone face plants into the hearth and ends up with 27 stitches like last time. No one likes horseplay.

Be mindful that seating is limited. You can sit on the sofa and the ottoman, but the antique rocking chair is for show. It won't hold you and I'm very cognizant of the liability issues associated with this kind of get-together. Especially if someone breaks out the cooking sherry.

If it gets too crazy, you can crash on the futon on the sun porch. It's covered in dog hair and pretzel crumbs, but it's still pretty comfy.

Ain't no party like a Duke house party, 'cuz a Duke house party don't stop.

Until 11:30.

Because that's my bedtime.