The party yesterday was great. As usual we were all having so much fun that we forgot to take pictures. Again, as usual, I could offer you pictures of the aftermath, but it all starts to look the same after a while. Imagine bowls piled on bowls, used cups strewn about the place, and emptied serving platters and you’ll have the general concept.

There were about 20 this year, all coming and going at various points. Some brought kids and others brought dates. It ended up starting a little sooner than I anticipated just because six of my guests showed up nearly 30 minutes early. I think they should feel lucky that I was out of the shower. That early meant that I had not put in all the food to be warmed, or any of it, really. So we all stood around and talked as I put everything in the oven.

It was fun, as usual.

My eggnog parties include three key elements: tasty treats, good games, and interactive eggnog preparation. This nog making generally takes us a good solid hour. We tend to view it as an experience rather than an exercise in perfection, so imagine my surprise this year when we had someone do up a perfect eggnog in about fifteen minutes. 

A seriously key part about the nog making is the Whisk Nazi. We have one of our crew who tends to wander about and tell everyone how they are whisking incorrectly. “Don’t touch the bowl,” he says. “The point is to fold air in, not beat it all to death.” This year we had two neither of whom were bestowed the title by historical events. One pattered on about egg farms and how to tell if the eggs were fertilized. She also told me that we weren’t supposed to put in the eggs yolks. The other criticized the egg separating process and then criticized the whisking before just taking it all over.

I saw this coming and just vacated the area, allowing them all to duke it out among themselves.

As I say, perfect eggnog, but no funny dorky stories about who did the worst whisking and how it compared to previous years’ beverage incarnations.

No one was forced to play Guitar Hero this year, though I did have it at the ready in case.

And a good number of Those Boys came, sweethearts that they are! We ate and drank and be-ed merry all the way up until about 2am at which point I was too tired to be terribly coherent. It was at this point that JJ started throwing pillows at me while grilling me about my hostessing choices, primary the temperature choice.

“I left it colder,” I said, “because I anticipated a lot of people. The more people, the hotter it will tend to get. If you leave the heat too high it will eventually turn into an… orgy.”

I don’t know why I felt the best choice of word was orgy. It does, as a matter of fact, mean just what I needed to say, however the connotative definition involves group sex. This is what caused everyone to stop their conversations and look at me.

“Why did you say that?” my best friend asked me.
“I don’t know!” I wailed, covering my face with my hands.
“You just meant… something wild, right?” JJ said, blushing madly from his collar to his hairline.
“Did you mean ‘sauna’?” asked another.
“I don’t know!” I said again, waving my hand, willing the word to be shooed from our collective consciousness.

It sort of went downhill from there, all the way to Those Girls stories until 3am.

We all know what fun Those Girls stories can be!

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