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| IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Saturday Night In Da Hood |
We have the most fabulous neighbours. I think we underestimate how much better life is when the people who live around us are also our friends. On Saturday night the folks opposite turned the big 5-0 and they put on a 1980's themed shindig in their backyard (hence Vanilla Ice and his Debbie Gibson-esque date in the image to the left there).
Damn, those 50 somethings know how to party. At 1am, we, and our good friends from next door decided we'd seen enough leg warmers and Martina Navratilova look-alikes for one night and it was time to turn in. We made all the obligatory and hilarious gags about finding a cab at that hour and how difficult it was going to be to get home (all 25 steps door to door) and we began to make our move to say our polite goodbyes. Not surprisingly, the hostess was not going to have it. Apparently, the closer you live to the party the more pressure there is to be the last to leave. (Did she not realise my one woollen glove was getting itchy? Could she not see that my glittery eye makeup was making me eyes water?! Clearly not).
Fast forward an hour and a half through a musical journey consisting of MC Hammer, Madonna, and Michael Jackson and there we were doing the exaggerated arm-swinging dance moves to Debbie Harry's "I Want That Man" with more enthusiasm than is physically required at 2am in a crowd who were not even close to wrapping it up and calling it a night. We finally escaped at 2.30am and we were still able to enjoy the dull thump of the party music from the comfort of our bed.
Never underestimate the fabulousness of being home from a great night out in a mere twenty-five steps.
Damn, those 50 somethings know how to party. At 1am, we, and our good friends from next door decided we'd seen enough leg warmers and Martina Navratilova look-alikes for one night and it was time to turn in. We made all the obligatory and hilarious gags about finding a cab at that hour and how difficult it was going to be to get home (all 25 steps door to door) and we began to make our move to say our polite goodbyes. Not surprisingly, the hostess was not going to have it. Apparently, the closer you live to the party the more pressure there is to be the last to leave. (Did she not realise my one woollen glove was getting itchy? Could she not see that my glittery eye makeup was making me eyes water?! Clearly not).
Fast forward an hour and a half through a musical journey consisting of MC Hammer, Madonna, and Michael Jackson and there we were doing the exaggerated arm-swinging dance moves to Debbie Harry's "I Want That Man" with more enthusiasm than is physically required at 2am in a crowd who were not even close to wrapping it up and calling it a night. We finally escaped at 2.30am and we were still able to enjoy the dull thump of the party music from the comfort of our bed.
Never underestimate the fabulousness of being home from a great night out in a mere twenty-five steps.
I hope you too are blessed with great neighbours - if not, then consider moving. Or have an 80s themed street party. It's a total icebreaker.
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