Tuesday, May 19, 2009

It's about cheese.

I love being a hostess and having guests over, but I have learned that I am territorial and immature the longer I have guests over. The last time that we had guests, I secretly freaked out when one of our guests used one of my brand new glasses for soda (one of two novelty glasses purchased at the Coca Cola store in Las Vegas). She had lipstick on and the glasses were brand new. I nearly wigged out because I wanted to be the first one to use the stupid glass.

It's like this: I say "Make yourself at home" and I think "no, but not really..."

So we have this guy visiting from Chile. It's important to me to be a good hostess, because I do care. But Dennis and I are both busy and our guest knows that we aren't going to be cleaning/cooking/entertaining much. Which is cool as our guest is not as much here for tourism as much as he is looking for prospects for when he moves to So Cal.

He's a guest. But he is making himself at home. And Dennis and I are slowly turning into Angie Tempura.

It's about cheese. We bought some expensive cheese tonight because we had an awesome coupon for it. And after I put it in the fridge, I realized I would have to share it. Because we are not going to hide cheese from our guest. But at the realization that I must share, I nearly lost my sh#t.

It's not just about cheese. I mean, last night he delighted in telling me that Jimmy Fallon is doing cocaine because he has bags under his eyes and he can't tell jokes without laughing. Because those are 100% tell-tale signs. I don't even care about the celebrity part, just the smug "you know you are a loser for laughing at the jokes of a drug addict" tossing of information my way. I prefer to be ignorant, thanks.

Or it's about how he asked me if he could help me cook dinner as I loaded three baked potatoes into the oven and then told Dennis "I can't eat potatoes. I have a glandular problem". Dude, why couldn't you have said that before you watched me load three potatoes in the oven? There are only three of us in my apartment. And why are you eating french fries in the biggest possible size at every restaurant we've taken you to then?

Or it's about how you made my husband drive around to fix our other car so you'd have a car to drive around and then you called yesterday from Hollywood and said you took a cab. You drove the car to Hollywood. And then hailed a cab to some place. And then drove home. I don't know why you needed a cab if you have our car, but I'm annoyed.

I really like certain aspects of having guests. I really do. And this guy, now that he has one of our cars, has made himself scarce. I cannot be the only one who regresses to a 2 year old when people come over.

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