Party Pooper

I went to a party last night. It was definitely inteteresting. C and D couldn't make it, but another friend convinced me to go. There are certain things, socially, that even pretty outgoing and engaging people have trouble doing. Imagine, walking into a room where there are only swedes, drinking (of course), and you know absolutely no one. More importantly, they are ALL SITTING AT SMALL TABLES. How the hell do you mingle and talk when everyone is at small, intimate tables?

The nightmare of even the most seasoned social-butterfly is to enter a place knowing no one. In my situation, how the HELL was I supposed to meet someone. I can't eavesdrop on conversation. I can't make a funny joke or pick on anyone. The purpose of the front bar was for buying drinks only. And the music, omg, the music was terrible. The burning house song kept going through my head, "The house is on fire, the house is on fire. We don't need no stinking water let the mother fucker burn. Burn mother fuck, mother fucker burn (I've also heard burn mother fucker, burn)."

Apparently mental chorus of arson and destruction suffices to make someone look 'meetable.' Within 7 minutes, I had someone talking to me. Interestingly, of those 7 minutes, I used 3 to call C to try and look like I had friends coming ... little did she know ... :) I actually stood in the doorway and perused the croud while I was talking. She actually caught me at one point, but I think it worked in terms of getting someone to come up and talk to me.

Once you get one ... I was a little miffed at first because the guy who came to talk with me was an evening student. Evening students typically work during the day, so I doubted this guy had many people to introduce me to. Turns out, he'd previously been in the day program and knew half the people there. After leaving, I subjected a smallish group of people to my presence. It didn't go so well at first. Apparently I'd stumbled onto a table of highschool graduates. NO, I'm no kidding. 19 years old, and studying for their drivers license -- which, I was told on no uncertain terms, is one of the hardest licensing exams here. In fact, one of the kids had never driven before. I was thinking, jesus H christ, I've entered the twilight zone or deliverance. Thank god no subsequent conversation mentioned pretty mouths or inbreeding.

I WAS supposed to get up this morning and go to the gym. There is something about sitting/standing in a room, enunciating like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, and breathing in copious amounts of heavy cigarette smoke. This is sweden, so of course, no one thought to open a window for draw to keep the vast cloud of soot and chemicals above the crowd. I spoke with C on my way home, while I waited 34 minute for the last train. She mentioned it sounded like I'd been smoking. I think I need to pick and choose my functions with more care. This waking up with sore throat and smelling like an ashtray just does not work for me. Something to think about at least ...

~My best