Tuesday, March 27, 2012

How To Make Your Pity Party A Hit

"Hey, Jan. Just wanted to remind you that you're not invited to my party later.".... "I know, Barb. You always throw the best pity parties."
Morning Readers,

     I would've written yesterday, but I ended-up being pretty busy. You see, when one decides to throw a pity party, it can be a little overwhelming getting all the preparation just right. A lot of people like to Google how to throw the perfect pity party, but I prefer to tap into years of feeling sorry for myself, before I host a soiree I can truly call morose. But, today you all are in luck. For I just received the following letter:

Dear Paige,

How do you throw the perfect pity party?


Ann E. Body


Dear Ann,    

     I'm so glad you took the time to send in your query. For starters, I like making sure I'm as unkempt as possible. For instance, when I curl up in my rocking chair, it makes me smile when I hear my leg hair brush past the upholstery, and realize my dry mascara is making it virtually impossible for me to see out of my right eye. If someone happens by your window, you want to make sure they say something like, 

"I can't believe they let the dog on their sofa; that thing looks like it has mange."

     That said, I think location is equally as important to the success of your party. I prefer to pick places people can see me feel sorry for myself, but just distant enough it would make it awkward for them to comfort me. Sofas next to windows work well. Ikea also has some nice window seats you can install before you spend any time contemplating whether anyone cares about you or not.*

*Scratch that. Buying something before your pity party may induce feelings of being needed by the company your buying from, therefore thwarting any attempts at self-loathing. Get on Pintrest and see if you can build the window seat yourself.

     Make sure and call everyone you know to tell them they're a) not invited not the party you're throwing, and b) obligated to wonder whether you'll make it through the night. At the end of the conversation, be sure to add a sunny, "No, really. I'm fine.)

     Once you're in you're mismatched pajamas, looking forlornly through the window, mouthing things at the neighbor's cat it can't understand, start making a list of things that make your life harder than other people's. Here are some I like to use:
  • No one else has to pay bills.
  • My hair was super tangley this morning and I couldn't find my hairbrush.
  • I'm the only one who doesn't get a professional massage in the afternoon.
  • I'm the only one who didn't understand the final episode of Lost.
  • The meatloaf I tried to make off Pintrest came out looking like a opossum on the interstate.
  • I'm the only one who has kids.
  • My husband doesn't come home from work, rub my feet, feed me ice cream, and discuss the underlying themes of Pride and Predudice.
  • My kids won't be quiet while I'm trying to watch Behind the Music: 50 Cent
     Once you've picked the topic or topics you'd like to dwell on, mix with a liberal serving of tears and cupping of forehead in hands. Remember, the world is against you and only you. Everyone outside is having the time of their lives and laughing you with their free time. I hope this helps you throw the most successful pity party ever.



Until Next Time, Readers!