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Sunday, May. 12, 2002
You know, I'd probably be a lot more comfortable with people if they'd announce their intentions in advance. Surely it would save time and make for a more carefree existence.

For example, let's assume a married couple with an exhausting list of relational troubles more or less invited themselves to Stu's Oyster Roast - mentioned in the previous entry. Actually there's no need to assume, they did just that. Here's what an advance announcement of their intentions might have been.

"Hi, we're here for the Oyster Roast. We're not quite sure if we're invited but we thought we might as well show up and freeload a bunch of your food and mingle with the other 50 folks who actually brought something. Then, once we've imbibed enough of your alcohol and feel sufficiently lubricated, we're going to become raging drama queens, strike one another about the head following a screaming argument, draw as much attention as possible to ourselves and then ask you to pick sides in our ongoing, mutually destructive marriage."

See how easy that could be? Just a little advance notice.

When confronted with Event Whores such as this, people who make a practice of playing out their sordid confrontations to an audience who is already weary of it, I am one to turn and walk away. I refuse to give them the attention they are obviously craving. Especially when 50 other guests are having a riotously good time and the music is grooving and the food is plentiful.

It's unfortunate that 2 people can create scenarios that cause 50 to gather up their skirts and head for other shelters. We all get a little voyeuristic thrill out of the dramatics for the first couple of minutes, but it becomes so nauseating, so uncomfortable after a while. Like tuning into Jerry Springer on television and watching the same version of existential reality over and over again. Until your brain implodes and the only remark worth making is "Why, oh why, do people want to be that way? Aren't we put on this earth to seek out some sort of happiness? Why go looking for pain? And why spread your pain on my slice of bread?"

It's equally unfortunate that I'm expending even a molecule of effort to document and explain all this. It defeats its' own purpose, since I've already used up 400 words or so describing my loathing of drama queens who seek attention.

Aside from the battle of the dramatic freeloaders, it was a tremendous party. People I love were there, people I love to see were there. Danielle and crew were there! Stu's mother-in-law came with an apple pie just for me! The dedicated faithful ate 3 bushels of oysters in just over 6 hours!

There was happiness and hijinks and much letting of laughter. I'd use the term 'good fellowship' but that has always smacked a little too much of Southern Baptist to apply here. Think more of the feeling you might have when standing around a fire with good friends on a cool night in May with not a worry in the world and munching on fat hot dog stuffed with cheese and wrapped in bacon.

Assuming you like bacon with your hot dog, of course.

I know I do. Plying Outfoxed with delectable food works for me.

I could even get pretty dramatic about it.

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