Before we get started, a question for you. Was tonight some sort of Backwards Night on Project Runway? Those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, fear not. I promise this entire post won't be about television. If you don't watch Project Runway, I understand. I resisted for a long time myself. But there will come a day when you will decide the "No Reality TV" mandate you have adhered to for years simply doesn't apply to the fascinating circus that is Project Runway. That day will probably be some random Sunday, perhaps when you are nursing a hangover and unable to leave your couch or even be bothered to press any more buttons than necessary on your remote. And on that day, Bravo will be playing a marathon of back-to-back episodes of Project Runway, each drawing you in ever deeper than the last. And when that day comes, come back here and let me know exactly why a dress seemingly birthed from a tragic collision of a flamingo, a tutu, and the high-necked, pouf-sleeved, floral dress of which my fifth grade teacher Miss Stanel was so fond beat out several far less hideous designs that people I know in real life might actually wear. And after you've explained that to me, I have a few other questions for you about tonight's winners and losers and, in fact, about the entire strange and motley mix of wallflowers and drama queens the producers have assembled for this year's cast. But all of that is for another day. I could go on, but why? There are other people already doing that, and doing a far better job than I would. Moving on.
See? Done talking about television now. I promise. I have far more important things on my mind. Namely, National Night Out. Have any of you actually participated in any National Night Out shenanigans in the past? Perhaps "shenanigans" is the wrong word. We are talking about family-oriented block parties, after all. Block parties organized by strangers, in which we're encouraged to bring not beer or wine or something similarly party-crucial but cans of tuna for a local food shelf instead. Maybe the tuna was just on MY block's notice. Maybe your flyer didn't say "Let's build a 'tower of tuna'!" on the back.
I've never gone to a National Night Out event, but I've also never been invited to a National Night Out event before. I really don't think my block has been having one and not telling me about it for years--huddling in someone's basement rather than a backyard, whispering, "Shhh! Don't tell that weird spinster girl in the blue house about this!" I think my block is just a lot like my high school graduating class: reasonably friendly to each other, but not much interested in organized participation or group togetherness of any sort. And I don't think my block's attitude about that has changed, because the invitation that was hanging on my front door last night didn't even come from anyone on my own block. The address is for a house one block down. Maybe they've tried this before and found their own block's as non-participatory as mine? Maybe they figure if they cast the net a bit wider, they'll get a more party-worthy turnout?
Or maybe... MAYBE! Maybe they DIDN'T invite the entire block adjacent to theirs. MAYBE I am the ONLY house in the 3400 block invited to the 3300 party! Maybe they aren't a "they" at all. Maybe in that house is an attractive and single thirty-something man... a man with a good job, a sense of humor, a flat(ish) gut, and a full head of hair! Maybe even a man with all of those attributes and without a dog! (Seriously, WHY do they all have dogs?? BIG dogs! Dogs that lick me and breathe on me and stab me with their hard, pointy paws! This is a topic for another post and not for a parenthetical, but it's something I've been wondering about for quite some time.) Maybe that mysterious man in the 3300 block saw me out walking one day and said, "That girl! I must meet her! She must live nearby!" So he cleverly followed me (in an entirely non-creepy, non-stalkery way, of course) back to my house and has simply been waiting for an opportunity to extend an olive branch (or, in this case, extend an offer of free hot dogs and lemonade) so we can chat.
What? It could happen...
I'm pretty sure the house that left the invitation isn't home to a single thirty-something male, however. I made note of the address so I could look for it on my way to work today, and it's actually a house on the nearby corner of the next block... the house with the Little Tykes playset in the backyard and a "Get your AVON here!" sign in front. Perhaps the block party invitation is all a ruse: a chance to garner new AVON clients. Sigh.
Or! OR! Maybe the AVON and Little Tykes couple has a friend! A single coworker or brother-in-law! Maybe he visits all the time. He's probably great with their kids, an honorary uncle of sorts. (Er, actual uncle, in the case of the "brother-in-law" scenario. I can't even get my fake stories straight.)
So. It could happen. I could go to my first National Night Out block party and meet the love of my life. Or I could go and come home full of hot dogs and potato salad and with a new wrinkle cream to test out. Should I go or not go? Tricky. I have until next Tuesday to decide.
Speaking of upcoming events, do you all know what this Friday is? It's Choose Your Own Blogventure day! Yay! Clear your schedules, because much like Blog Share, getting through all the posts just might take you a while. Unlike Blog Share, however, there will presumably be no dirty little private secrets. There'll likely be zombies and dragons and possibly even forgotten teen heartthrobs of the 80s instead. I can't wait. See you there.