I loathe them. Like, root canal, or sitting around somebody's living room while some lady tries to sell me bracelets? I'll take the root canal. But my sister-in-law is now a Pampered Chef consultant, and so my mom threw a party tonight. Which I have to go to. Because I live there too. There was sangria. It's not so bad anymore.

I've snuck away while everyone is placing there orders and small talking. I know no one except my relatives, who I will be seeing again in two days for another family shindig. At first, I was pissed, because I had a date with The Tudors, and it's laundry day, and my hair is greasier than a used car salesman's, but then I had some sangria and started to relax. Then I had another glass, and we got to eat stuff, and mingle a bit. I chatted with my cousin about life. Again, not awful. Then I filled up my mason jar one more time, wandered around in the background, and found my escape.

I haaaate lady parties, mainly on principle, but also because I generally detest the things ladies talk about when assembled in larger groups of friendly strangers. I'd rather peel off my own skin. The sangria with spiked-fruit-as-ice-cubes makes things better. Significantly.

I know my family will understand my disappearance. I just really wish I could bring my dog in from his kennel. I just want to snuggle with a friendly face! And polish off this mason jar.....