Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Drama Comes to Dinner

Drama Queen: I am not a Drama Queen.

Me: Dude, you totally are.

DQ: No, I'm not. I swear I'm not.

Me: Okay... Only, here's the thing...

DQ: What?

Me: You are.

DQ: I swear. I've never had this much drama in my life.

Me: Okay, but still, saying you're not a drama queen, and saying you don't like drama, that's just, well...

DQ: What?

Me: ...

DQ: Say it.

Me: Well, it's just bullshit, dude. Here's the thing...

DQ: Oh dear.

Me: You invited it.

DQ: Drama?

Me: Yeah.

DQ: But it was my dinner party. I could invite anyone I wanted.

Me: I'm not saying you couldn't. I'm just saying that you chose to invite DRAMA to dinner.

DQ: How so?

Me: Dude, it was like Dicken's Christmas Carol in there! What with the ghosts of exes past, present and future! And you were like Tiny Tim, wandering around all "God bless us everyone of us."

DQ: Hunh. Well, they could have refused the invitation. You know, like "Regrets Only."

Me: Wow. I'm not going to even bother going into that - like which one of them wanted to be labeled the snobby bitch. It's beside the point. The point is...

DQ: I know, I know. I invited Drama to dinner, apparently.

Me: That we don't live in a vacuum! I mean, you invited Drama to dinner.

DQ: So I've heard.

Me: It was like this: Drama shows up at your doorstep, all "Let me in, I'm hungry!" And you open the door and Drama dumps its coat on you and asks what's to eat. And you say "Uh, mussels." And Drama's all like "Mmmmm. Excellent choice." And then your guests are all like, "Mmmmm. Indigestion." And then you hang up Drama's coat and then you show Drama to its chair, which is at the Head of the Table.

DQ: Really? At the Head? You think?

Me: Yes, definitely at the Head.

DQ: I thought I was at the head.

Me: No way, Tiny Tim. Unfortunately, you were but Drama's hand servant for the evening.

DQ: Rrrrriiiiiiiiggggghhhhhttttt.... (long pause.)

Me: Right. So where was I?

DQ: Mussels.

Me: Yeah, Hand Servant, not so good a choice there. Because Drama's there, sitting at the Head of Your Table, mowing down on mussels, and everyone's all looking side-to-side, and adjusting their napkins and shit. And that's when it happens.

DQ: What happens?

Me: That's when Drama barfs all over your guests.

DQ: Ewww.

Me: Totally.

DQ: Ahhhh, so you're saying the problem was the mussels?

Me: No! I'm saying the problem was inviting all the drama! And then, dude, listen to me, because this shit is important.

DQ: Ugh, (sigh), I'm listening.

Me: Because then pretending like you don't like the Drama, pretending that you're not even just a little bit of a Drama Queen, well that's just a shoddy acting job. Because if you didn't like it, then you wouldn't invite everybody over, only to let them get barfed on!

DQ: I gotcha. No more mussels.

Me: No more dinner parties.

DQ: All right Scrooge, no more Tiny Tim act.

Me: Exactly. Thank you.


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