Okay, so, like, Bronson Alcott High School is kind of lame and totally does a high school reunion every year, but when you have to keep up with nose jobs and networking, it can be very important to attend these functions... especially if they are as massively amazing as Bronson Alcott shindigs tend to be. And, like, I would know, right? After all, I did kind of become a professional party planner.
See, it all started when Daddy told me that he would take care of my graduation party which, like, as if! The only thing Daddy knows about parties is not to dress himself. (Hello! He totally has me for that.) I tried to talk to Lucy, our maid, about having a free exchange of information with Daddy vís a vís the party, but Lucy was still adjusting to the idea that changes would be coming when I went to college so I was left to negotiate on my own.
Daddy is like a totally litigious teddy bear or something. He's way lawyerly and wears major labels on Court TV that most of the viewing audience couldn't even find knockoff versions of, though Daddy gets his majorly real ones mostly from some of the way choice boutiques right here in Beverly Hills. It's just part of our part to think globally and shop locally. (Lucy totally buys things at the Farmer's Market, too. They have these scrumptious little baby carrots that are tres cute.)
Anyway, there's Daddy talking about hiring a band and getting an ice sculpture of a diploma and getting The Palm to cater which is not only so yesterday, but so "Why bother?" and I have to jump in to make it clear that he is setting me up to fail. I know all about bodacious fiestas and what it takes to make them work. I told him all about my debate in Mr. Hall's class where I brought up redistributing the food for Daddy's 50th birthday party where the caterer totally dropped the ball by bailing when the party started instead of sticking around for the serving and how that meant I could totally handle anything a big bash might throw me. (Since then, it's been in all of the contracts I've made with caterers that they must stay until at least the last course leaves the kitchen. Wolfgang Puck got a pass that one time, but I made his sous chef stick around which was such a good thing because the dessert was missing chocolate sauce and do you really expect a bunch of lawyers to leave somewhere happy without chocolate?)
I had to talk Daddy up to a reasonable budget for my party and convince him to let me handle everything, but I hit it totally out of the park! By the time the party ended (wayyyy into the early morning hours), the DJ had long since passed out, all of the awesome food had been completely consumed except for one half-eaten crab puff sitting by the side of the pool, Amber and whatever reject she'd brought along were messily canoodling on the veranda as though anyone cared, the police were dragging a few of the more overzealous partygoers off of the lawn, and Daddy was frowning his biggest frown which he only ever did when I reminded him that I was growing up. It was so adorable!
Daddy had complimented me on how well I'd done with the money for the party (even more amazing since I kind of went over my budget when dress shopping and had to borrow some from the party fund... Whoops!), and he didn't even know how much that same DJ was charging Amber for her knock-off party the next night as though anyone cared about graduation two days later when there was a new club opening. Tscha! Right?
So, really, it was Daddy that put it into my head about parties and then he went on, as I was getting ready to climb into the limo he rented to take me to college, about how I should really think about more than just parties and clothes and how those interacted with my life. Driving along through the low-smog-alert air (way amazing this time of year), I thought carefully about Daddy's words and it was so obvious. Parties really were such a huge part of my life, but hardly any of them mattered. It was obvious that something had to change there. And it did!
Though he wasn't happy that I was now just pursuing a two-year business degree rather than going into the rest of my life with a four-or-more-year plan to dominate, well, something... He was ecstatic when I got a job at one of the premiere party planning businesses in Beverly Hills. Josh says it's just because he didn't think I would ever actually make my own money, but I think it's just that this job is choice. (Josh is still way harsh about everything with me and money, but whatever!)
Still, to bring this back around, I was about to finish up my degree when, out of nowhere, Summer called me. She was becoming a teacher or something and had contacts with the people who planned the reunions and they were totally dropping the ball on our class as though we weren't going to be Audi the second we noticed that the fruit being served was canned as though Von's doesn't sell fresh pineapple and melon and all of that and even cut it up for you. She begged for my help. And if there's one thing I just can't resist, it's a project.
Then, like, the party planning service I work with did not want to take on this shindig, so I had to make a few calls. I ended up turning in my resignation because of it and filing the paperwork to start my own business. The reunion is my first party, but it's going to be an amazing night; I can already tell. I have this gorgeous blue ruched Lanvin with a cut-out back to wear and brand-new business cards to hand out to all of my friends. At the very least, I know that Amber would love to think she had me at her beck and call when really I would just be given a free pass to put, like, a pastiche of class all over her pathetic ideas. Ambular may be one of my TBs, but clearing some of the tacky from her lifestyle would be a major balm for my soul or something.
I'm meeting De at the mall in a few. There's a new Blackberry color out and I totally need to coordinate with my Lanvin and find appropriate party favors. I was going to go with personalized wallets for him and monogrammed clutches for her, but Summer objected to that many cows dying for one party (Hello? Hadn't she ever heard of the Richardson's backyard barbecue?) and the smell of that much leather in one place was maybe a little overwhelming.
But I've so completely got this! I understand all of those people who talk about their life's work and their dream job. I know I'm your basic Beverly Hills twenty-something (exciting in its own right), but this is like dreams coming true to have this life right now.
Really, when you think about it, all of life is a party, so getting to be the one in charge at all? Massively choice! I'll accept everyone's props at the end of this party because there is no way I'm letting any party fouls happen on my watch.