You can buy new stuff but you can't buy a new party!

I dislike Hillary Clinton. I might trust her more if her face were a bit wrinklier. So the Leukemia Lymphoma Society dinner is fast approaching. As we will clearly not be in attendance, my parents are going in our stead. Someone has to fill in at the sports table. Delicious dinner and free hoarded booze aside, I am a bit relieved to be ending my streak as a volunteer silent auctioneer. I can handle the setting up portion—I cover a mean chair—but then the actual event starts and I somehow end up with scary rich people yelling at me. It’s not difficult work, no one else has problems; I just seem to incite the rage of women dripping sarcasm and diamonds. Also some random girl in a striped dress that glared at me all night for no reason. I wasn’t being paranoid, other people saw it and in fact pointed it out before I noticed. At least my run-ins were with strangers. Patrick once found himself in the food line next to a woman who had recently stuck her fingers in his bum. I suppose I should mention that she was the nurse that had done his pre-PC physical. I am frustrated that Word keeps telling me that my sentences are not sentences. My thoughts are difficult to punctuate. Anyway, my favorite part is the ballroom readying. It’s busy and mindless and I enjoy it very much. I am fairly sure that I am alone in this sentiment. There is free beer in the evenings, but only before dinner. If you were a planner, you might collect more beers than you need before dinner and hide them under the table skirts of the auction table. Come hungry, dinner is excellent. Pay attention to the minimum bids. Even after the price has been marked down, the min bid stays the same. So remember that before you are scolded by a kind-hearted but quite frazzled Sharpie wielder. Most importantly, don’t forget your enhanced breasts and piles of subtle 4-carat . If still unsure about attire, I've included this picture of Velda (at least the important parts of her) from last year. diamonds