It’s Friday. Time for the musings of our friend, ID Collection’s Jim Williamson. I’m not sure if it was all the patriotic bunting around town during the holiday or the fact that I just celebrated another birthday, but I’ve been feeling nostalgic. I wish it would stop. For me, nostalgia is like a flat tire going down a dirt road—it’s not good for much, and it takes an awfully long time to get anywhere.
But let’s talk about the annual Fourth of July party, shall we? This was my third installment of the seventh annual party. My first one, if you will recall, involved a film crew and reality stars who are all now former reality stars. (Shocking). During filming, the producers suggested I create some tension by throwing a drink on a guy. I didn’t because I was raised properly. I was also wearing Givenchy and didn’t want any splash back. But looking back (strolling down Nostalgia Lane again!), I probably should have thrown that drink, along with a table or two, because the crazy ones always get more screen time. And apparently crazy pays pretty well. Oh well.
I refer to the second party as “Stress Fest.” The set-up for the party didn’t go quite as smoothly as anticipated. It was basically a cluster %$#@. It was also very hot that year—so hot that my hair product started to disintegrate and drip down my forehead and collect in my eyebrows. Everything had me so stressed that I wanted to crawl into the cage like Oswald (the dog) does when it thunders or fireworks go off.
So I had no idea what to expect this year. Me being me, I always expect the worst. That way when something should (and usually does) happen, I’m can simply think, “Oh, is that all?” But thanks to months of prep by Max-A-Million and his oh-so-many lists and endless weekend shopping trips for supplies—plus a very well-trained catering crew and some awesome weather—almost everything went off without a hitch.
Unfortunately, I decided to redecorate the entire living room a mere 12 hours before the party.
Here’s what happened. While I was at the salon getting beautified (in a manly way of course), the guys came to move some furniture out so we could get more people in. When I left the salon, I felt like Justin Bieber after “using the bucket”: relived and spunky. When I returned home, I was welcomed by an entire garage full of furniture. As I walked into the living room, I knew right away that everything was all off. What was left in the room was out of scale and didn’t work color wise. It was just not right. So I surveyed the situation and then yelled up to Max, “Oh Max, would you mind helping me move a few things?”
He was less than excited.
I tried to allay his fears. “Babe, I do this all the time,” I explained. “This will go much faster if you stop asking me to explain exactly why I want this here and that there.” It may not have come out exactly like that. It could have beens something out of Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire. (Please refer to Cliff’s Notes/Case Study 202: Mr. Jim Freak Out Circa 1997.)
After a few minutes of barking back and forth, we agreed some tequila might help cool things off and headed out for a frozen ‘rita. After that, hard edges were softened. When we returned,Max surveyed the living room from the third-floor balcony and said, “It does look good. In fact, it’s the best it has looked in a while.”
I just said, “ Uh huh.” This was my way of saying, “I told you so.”
And with that the doorbell rang and didn’t stop ringing until the last guest left in the early a.m. It was a good party. In fact, it was almost like several parties all at once. The one downstairs had its own music mix, bar, and staffed kitchen. There was another party on the stairs where you saw people you hadn’t seen in a while and got to show off your latest piece (art not hair). A third party on the roof deck had its own music provided by our buddy DJ Shuttle, bar, and staffed kitchen. And then there was yet another party on top of the actual roof, accessible only by a ladder, where you had the best view of the Fair Park fireworks.
We had politicians, heads of major corporations, PR gurus, artists, sculptors, neighbors, comedians, musicians, DJs, chefs, a helicopter pilot, friends, family, coworkers, and even a sourpuss or two. You name it, we had it and then some. What seemed like a very odd mix of a lot of people with varied interests turned out to be a great mix of people who were all super nice. And everyone loved Max’s Lindsay Lohan inspired drink: Bottled Water. It was delicious—perhaps a little too delicious for a few. Fortunately no limps were involved, and everyone had a designated driver.
So another Fourth goes on the record books. Rockets flared, along with a few tempers, but it was all for a few good causes: celebrating our nation’s independence, LiLo’s birthday, and just because we like it when our friends have fun.
Until the next adventure! Happy Friday.