How many times must I say this? The Tricentennial, an event to celebrate the 300th post on Goulash, will be Saturday, October 2nd, in the dungeon below my apartment. You, the humble reader, are invited to come if you can make it to Austin, are older than 15, and promise not to stab me. Oh, also you shouldn't be my mom. I had to throw that one in there because I know if I didn't, I could count on her showing up that day with a horseshoe set in hand. Now I have no problems with a horseshoe hootenanny with the fam, but some nights must be devoted to staying up all night, drinking and setting crap on fire. Actually, I can imagine those activities playing a large role in the Powell Family Christmas this year, but I'm still going to lay down the "No Mommy" rule anyway. And in case she gets any ideas, I'll be checking for disguises at the door.
Few events are as filled with mystery as my parties. As such, I have put together the following list of frequenly asked questions to let you, the party goer, understand what's in store.
Q: What exactly will occur at the Tricentennial?
A: Kinda tough to answer this one. If things go according to plan, the night will begin with a tasteful game of charades. After that, I have Danza slated to play a few concertos on the clavicle. Following his second encore, we will adjourn to the lecture hall, where I will present one barnburner of a oratory, presumptively titled, "From Plato to Bjork: Lessons Learned from History's Famous Lesbian Vampires". At this point, we will adjourn to our cabins and prepare for the triathlon that begins at 4 AM Sunday morning.
Q: What's the traditional Tricentennial gift to the host?
A: A corsage.
Q: Am I allowed to bring a date?
A: Yes, provided that your date isn't neither rabid nor one of those devil dogs from Ghostbusters.
Q: What if my date happens to be your mom?
A: That's a dilemma, since I already put the no mom rule out there for everyone to see. But then who am I to stand in the way of love? I guess if you're escorting her about town for the evening and you want to stop in, the two of you can stand in front of my patio with a walkie talkie. Inside is strictly prohibited.
Q: And what about these rumors I keep hearing about capturing the Sasquatch who lives in the woods behind your apartment?
A: It's no rumor. We've stocked up on machetes, nets, and Lady Sasquatch pee to lure it in. This time, he's going in my garage; we ride at dusk.