Last weekend was Chris’ birthday, so we had a joint birthday party-cum-housewarming thing at ours. It was the first time we’ve had any number of people at our new flat, and we had a very nice time apart from one major DISASTER which I’ll come to in a minute.
For his present, Chris has requested some awesomely cool shoes that he’s been in love with for some time. These are they:
They’re very pretty, but unfortunately turned out to be limited edition and not easy to buy from anywhere. They also cost about £140, so in the end we decided he wasn’t allowed those. BUT, after rooting around on the internet for a bit, I found them for sale from a Chinese seller on an eBay-type site for £35 including postage. For that price it’s highly possible they’re not going to be genuine ones, we said, and they may never arrive as they’re coming from China, but it was only £35 to risk so we thought we’d give it a try.
And they’re great! They arrived the day before his party, which was perfect because then he got to show them off to everyone and wear them round the house all day. They also look great, and were in a proper Adidas box and everything, so overall I was really pleased. If I were to scrutinise them, I’d say the stitching is possibly of suspect quality, but for the money they’re absolutely fine.
Anyway, the party was pretty full and Chris had lots of his work friends over for it, which was nice because I haven’t met some of them. And some of them are FIT, so that made it extra nice. Now, on to the disaster.
As you may remember, our living room is decorated with predominately white furniture. We had said to people before the party (only half jokingly [AKA deadly seriously]), YOU MUST NOT SPILL. We were very adamant about that. Spilling on the floor is acceptable, as it’s wood and can be wiped up. Spilling on the rug and spilling on the furniture are capital offences.
I think you can tell what I’m going to say happened.
One of our friends, let’s call him M for anonymity purposes, arrived at the party completely trashed having enjoyed a day of drinking with other acquaintances. Not 30 minutes after his arrival, came The Incident.
This is an artist’s impression of my lovely white chair before The Incident.
This is an artist’s impression of my lovely white chair after M and his cocktail were allowed near it.
I am not joking. That is how much cocktail went on the chair.
This is an artist’s impression of me.
Now, I actually think I was very good about it. Sort of it. I was clearly furious, not because someone spilled, anyone can spill and it’s just an accident, but because he was wasted and was being clumsy and careless.
Fortunately the cover on those chairs is removable and washable, so I spent the next 20 minutes of the party scrubbing it in the sink like a fucking old washerwoman, not being able to socialise with anyone, while M harangued me with apologies and offers to clean it until I snapped at him and told him to go away and leave me to it.
Mr Chair Cover has since had a wash in the washing machine, and all of the stain has come out because I got it into water straight away. M left me a voicemail message the next day apologising some more, which I haven’t responded to, so he doesn’t actually know the chair is fine again. I’m going to let him stew for a bit and think about what he’s done.
Next time we have a party, everything is going to be vacuum-packed in impregnable cellophane, including everyone’s drinks and including all the people holding said drinks.
WE DO NOT SPILL ON THE WHITE FURNITURE.
I don’t know why people think I’m highly strung, I really don’t. I can’t imagine someone more easy-going.