Monday, December 5, 2011

Mr Wrath Has Moves Like Jagger.

Despite living in this town for 9 years, I often feel like I don't know very many people. Friends have largely given up passing on gossip to me because I'm forever saying, "Who are we speaking of again? Do I know this person?" Generally I only know people who:
a. drive the same car as me (this accounts for four other people),
b. are library patrons or employees,
c. are associated with the cross-country ski club or speed skating club,
d. work with my husband (and even then it's not a given that I know their names),
e. once threatened to kill their dog for my benefit after myself and two girlfriends complained that the dog was behaving aggressively toward us on a regular basis (okay, this only happened once, but I still think badly of this nutbar whenever I see her. "Just put your dog on a fuckin' leash!" my friend G. yelled at the woman and I will forever love G. for having the grace, style and attitude to look like a badass while pushing a stroller ),
f. work at the dog kennel or vet and take excellent care of my pets,
g. work at the bank or grocery store or rec centre or dental office,
h. have lived on my street for longer than two years (this is how long it takes for new neighbours to imprint on my brain), or
i. have children the same age as my two sons.

This weekend I engaged in two activities that made me realize that I do know a lot of people.

The aforementioned speed skating club is having a raffle and we were at the mall selling tickets on Saturday for two hours. Turns out I know lots of people and many generously bought tickets from our table.  I felt like I did have a social circle. 

Also we were very impressed with Zarf. He took a clipboard and walked up and down the mall selling tickets. There is no way myself or Mr Wrath would have had the confidence or initiative to do this at age 9. Shit. I'm 38 and found it uncomfortable to passively sit at a table and sell tickets.

The second social-life affirming outing was Mr Wrath's office Christmas party. On twitter I mentioned dreading this event, and several women commented that they'd love an opportunity to dress up and have an evening of sophisticated, adult-only dining and dancing. While this is not EXACTLY how I would classify an evening at the Legion (knotty wood wall panelling FTW!), I did enjoy myself. I wore high heels. Sure they were only two inches, but that's high for me. Mr Wrath even consented to dance with me. This is impressive because:
a. I'm a energetic, but spastic dancer, and
b. he holds a position of authority at his workplace and it's got to be tough to go back to work on Monday knowing that you are now going to be called "the guy whose wife makes Elaine from Seinfeld look smoooooooooth."

Sweet fancy Moses, indeed.


  1. The Legion!

    Sadly, they had a rocking band at my husband's party but I danced NOT AT ALL. That's because I was having the world's most boring conversations with his colleagues and their wives. Plus I enjoyed a lovely conversation with a drunk, much older gentleman who kept informing me that he really liked redheads. It was somewhat flattering at first, and then it just got weird.

    I would have preferred the dance floor, is what I'm saying.

  2. Yeah, well, Hubs' Christmas party will not have a band - instead all 300 of us will be expected to sit still and behave during a holiday show, which the company gets free tickets for because they are a major sponsor of the theatre.

    I have no idea what this year's show is. Last year it was some travesty called "A Celtic Christmas Kitchen Party", narrated by a bad Irish stereotype called the Lepreclaus.


    Bet them knotty pine floors are looking pretty good now, hey?

  3. Apparently my husband's work does some sort of holiday thing, but he so doesn't want to go that I didn't even know that until he had worked there 6 years.

    & now the officers are boycotting the party because of the lay off situation.

    How the hell am I supposed to embarrass my husband with my dance skills if he never takes me dancing?


  4. I have been to many a Christmas party, from small (20 or so people) to the 1000's (no kidding)...and I sort of dread them all. I think I enjoy myself once I get there, but really I work with those people and aside from a select few, I don't want to be hanging with them if you know what I mean.

    You know how I love me some Elaine...what's next Festivus?

  5. Does that mean I am your friend too (even though I am leaving and I have granite and stainless steel (and let's not forget the tile...))?

  6. My one requirement for dancing is alcohol. I cannot dance in public if I am sober.

  7. @OmahaMama -- well I was stone cold sober but everyone else was drunk, so it works out the same.


    @Jenifer -- we have a 70s pole lamp in the living room that I always call the Festivus pole. It's awesome.

    @Eryn -- Tom is a clever fellow!

    @Hodgepodge... -- Lepreclaus!?!

    @Nicole -- there's a fine line separating flattering from weird, which is why I won't make too many comments about the foxy dress you wore that night.