Worst. Party. Ever.
Shun friends and alienate people with your own Asshole's Tea Party
By Nick Brown
The "Teddy Bear's Picnic" is a song they teach kids at daycare. I don't really even know if it's a song, to tell you the truth. It might be a card game. All I know is that bears are dangerous.
Far safer is the Asshole's Tea Party, a game I like to play with people I barely know. See, people will sometimes want to make friends with me. This is a nice way to stick the finger in their fat, stupid faces.
The first step is to invite them over for dinner. It works best with an uncomfortably formal gesture that eclipses every painful "hey, man" they've ever tossed your way. You might visit them at work or wait by their car, pretending to be "just hanging out." You could even print up a fancy invitation and present it with a theatrical flourish. Persistence is the key, as they will likely decline. Make them understand you are in earnest.
Once they're resigned to your miserable evening, you can plan a menu of utter disrespect. It all has to be edible—you can't use poison and it can't be so gross that it's preposterous. You don't want to kill them, just make them uncomfortable for a while. Here are a few of my favorite recipes.
Fried Egg Soup
Fry an egg for every guest attending. Boil a pan of water with a couple beef bouillon cubes and throw in some carrots and chives, coarsely chopped. When the eggs are crispy and wrecked, cut them in quarters and throw them in. Add a quarter cup of maple syrup for added mystery.
Salad du Huile
Have you heard of oil and vinegar? Just get a bag of salad and forget about the vinegar. Lettuce coated with vegetable oil is what you usually wind up with.
Grandma's Banana Bread
At the supermarket, buy a couple cans of biscuit dough and a banana. Mold the dough around the peeled banana and bake per instructions on the can.
Smear raw chicken breasts with peanut butter and black pepper, then grill them until they're dry and tough. Attach toothpicks and green grapes, claiming they're edible glyptodons. If you don't know what a glyptodon is, go back to elementary school as an adult. I bet you'll flunk everything.
Unsweetened iced tea with vodka is hard to beat, but cheap red wine with lots of brown sugar and cloves is a close second. Either way, it's nice to have a big, tepid pitcher on hand so no one's glass goes empty.
Some of your creations might even be delicious. It doesn't matter. It's all just mud pies, man. Mud pies. It all boils down to serving up an insult with the deadpan delivery of a child. I never eat much of the food myself and explain how I had a big steak dinner right after work.
Ambience is important, too.
They want to see how you live, so let them. That goes for dishes and bathrooms, too, Raymond. I like to stick wads of gum on the underside of my kitchen table.
Loud opera is perfect because most living generations can't appreciate it. Smooth jazz and modern country are also good choices, so long as the volume impairs conversation. If they ask you to turn it down, try to move the volume knob with your mind. Unlock the power.
The Gracious Host
When I'm cooking I like to slam some pots and pans around, and I do mean hard. I like to pinch my lips into a tight little anus and make all my movements quick and jerky. I'll answer questions with a couple of pained syllables, then rattle around in the silverware drawer. I can't believe I have to wait on these people. Of course, the Oscar-winning performance is always the Broken Dish. I slam a plate down hard enough to break it, then look upward and close my eyes like I'm either in rapture or counting to 20. I've got a problem? No, you've got a problem. Let's drop it and have some soup.
I find that I'm an excellent conversationalist when I pretend to be Alan Alda. It's such a challenge to replicate his diction and physical affectations that any meaningful discourse is quite impossible. It simply becomes a matter of reading off the Bisquick box and trying to sound like Alda. I've found that most people enjoy these efforts nearly as much as I do. Except for that one bitch that broke up with me. I hope she burns in hell.
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