Yesterday night I partied like a rock star because I was a rock star. A good friend of mine had the good sense to celebrate her birthday by bringing out rock band and her Wii. Being a themed party every one was asked to dress for the occasion. I do not have a string of costumes in my closet for such occasions and my every day wardrobe does not pose many options. So I arrived early at my friends house because I knew she would have a get up for me. In no time I found myself attired in black, short spangly skirt, hot pink tights, a neon green leopard print 80s style shirt. My hair was done up in a banana clip and I put blue and yellow streaks in my hair. I was almost ready. All that was left were white calf height boots. They were white with a string of purple flowers on one side. I was hot.
The other reason I arrived early was to learn how to make extra ordinary ice cream. A chef friend arrived under the alias Stephan with the emphasis on the last syllable. We quadrupled the ice cream recipe and had three ice cream makers. It was an educating experience, but this post is not about ice cream it is about a rock star party.
The guests began to arrive. Most of the guys showed up wearing jeans and headbands or some such things. One friend showed up in a fabulous outfit including a mullet, skin tight leopard shirt and a large dollar sign worn around his neck. The ladies came in many varied outfits from street level to classy rockers to the outlandish.
The intrepid rock stars got straight down to business and jumped right in. Others of us watched for several songs and snacked on pumpkin logs, chips, veggies, and a fabulous dip made from sausage and I forget what other tasty ingredients. Being mannerly rock stars we kindly offered up our instruments after every couple of songs and sometimes pushed the timid into taking a turn at jamming like the rich and famous.
Finally, the ice cream finished churning. We gathered for some cake and choice of vanilla or strawberry or both. Stephan even made a caramel sauce and candied cashews to make the ice cream top notch dessert. Towards the end of the evening we broke out dance dance revolution, which was perfect because I was starting to fall asleep. That is what happens when a rock star has to wake up at 4 in the morning to go to work and party at night. So a little incompetent dancing was perfect for waking me up. I averaged a low score of E and a high score of D. In my optimistic universe I believe those stand for extraordinary and dynamic because I was definitely both of those. Leaving for the night I morphed back into the ever day Kristin putting the rock star dynamo away for another day when the music blares, the lights are low, and the food superb.