How Bone Does Classy

Last Thursday was Tiff's birthday. (Tiff is my gorgeous roommate, and she asked me to make up a fake name for her on my blog, but the only thing I can think of is Fitt, and that makes it sound like she has palsy or something, so sorry Tiff, we're sticking with Tiff.)

So, last Thursday was Tiff's birthday, and one of her other friends was hosting a dinner party on Friday. We'll call this other friend "The Hostess". Friday morning, I called The Hostess and asked her if there was anything she needed me to bring. She listed off a few items, no big deal, and then, almost as an after-thought, she said, "Oh, and can you bring a classy centerpiece as well?"

Pause.

Me: "Um, could you be more specific?" Read: Have we ever met and do you realize that my idea of a classy centerpiece is an Oscar cake that always has the potential to come out looking like a penis?

Hostess: "Well, some type of centerpiece for the table. Maybe a hanging balloon chandelier? The colors are green and whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhite..."

Me: "Oh. Ok. Um. When you say 'hanging balloon chandelier'.....?" Read: Seriously, have we met?

Hostess: "You know, with fancy balloons."

Pause.

Me: "Fancy balloons?" Read: Like the huge mylar ones shaped like animals?

Hostess: "Right, like the really metallic, shiny, fancy balloons."

By this time, I'm picturing the balloons that were in my senior prom photo backdrop.

Me: "And there is a color scheme? How fancy IS this dinner?" Read: Because seriously, if you're expecting me to wear a dress, you are sorely mistaken.

Hostess: "Yes, the colors are green and whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhite. Like a granny-smith-apple green."

Me: "Great. Ok. Sounds good." Read: All I heard was 'granny smith apple', so that's what you're getting.

At this point, I dialed Bone Senior in a panic and shouted at her, "WHAT THE HECK IS A HANGING BALLOON CHANDELIER!" and I felt much better when she'd never heard of one either.

She suggested that I get a wide vase and fill it with granny smith apples. And then my mind began to wander to a wonderous place. A wonderous place filled with green apples and marshmallows.

And that's exactly the kind of classy centerpiece The Hostess got. I wish I'd taken a picture of her face when I showed up with it. Actually, I wish I'd taken a picture of a LOT of her facial expressions aimed at me that night, but we'll get to that in a minute.

Back to the classy centerpiece. I told The Hostess that it was 'agriculture chic', and pointed out that it was, in fact, completely in line with the color scheme. But she didn't seem amused.

I went out to the back patio and proudly put my centerpiece at the center of the fancy table. I stood back to admire my work, then went back inside to await Tiff's arrival.


The beautiful table spread.

What's that? You don't see the classy centerpiece I made?



Can you see it now? No? Oh wait.
















Maybe you can't see it because when I went inside, The Hostess went outside, and banished my centerpiece to the table that would be used for our dirty dishes.







I was not happy.

As the dinner preparations went on, I became even more unhappy. Particularly because everything that The Hostess asked me to help with, I didn't know how to do. Such as make whipping cream. (Shut up, I KNOW, ok?!) I thought all you had to do was whip it. When I asked The Hostess to confirm this and confessed to her that I'd never made whipped cream before, I swear her jaw hit the counter.

The blender and whipping cream were promptly taken away from me and given to someone more capable. And The Hostess gave me a new job.

"How about you go over there and keep an eye on the rice?" she politely asked. Note: the rice was cooking in a rice cooker.

"Ok, do I have to stir it or anything?" Read: I meant this as a serious question, because if I've never made whipped cream, what makes you think I've ever used a rice cooker?

"Nope, just keep an eye on it. It will shut off by itself when it's done, then you can just scoop it into this container."

"Um. Ok." Read: Just because I don't know how to make whipped cream, doesn't mean that I can't recognize a bullshit job when I'm given one.

Seriously? Keep an eye on this rice cooker that will shut itself off and you don't have to do anything except literally STAND HERE AND WATCH IT? I know that I don't know how to cook, but even I'm not dumb enough to think that watching a rice cooker is meaningful or helpful in any way.
So that's what I did. I literally watched the rice cooker.


And watched it some more.

Thank goodness Tiff showed up. Goodness knows what might have happened if I hadn't kept an eye on the rice. The whole night might have been ruined.

And she appreciated my center piece. And in all the group photos, I insisted on holding the center piece in front of me. Yes, I really did.

That's just what you get when you put me in charge of something "classy."