Danny Boy

I've been putting this post off. You see, last week, Heidi and I were invited to a party at a friend's house, and writing about it could be potentially…well…embarrassing.

Let me just start out by saying I hate home sales “parties”. I always have. It always bothered me that people would invite me to a “party” that's so back-asswards that I'm expected to spend the money. I mean honestly, the only way a man is going to have fun spending money at a party is if it's a last fling for a bachelor in a trashy Vegas club. Fun!

Rest assured, that's not what your wife is talking about when she says she's going to a party with her friends. What she wants is to spend four hours at her sister's house burning through every last dime of your child's college fund. And when she gets done, all she'll have to show for it is a bunch of plastic plates that aren't even going to fit in the damn cupboard when she gets them, because she's already got TEN FUCKING PIECES OF EVERYTHING THEY SELL. I'm not kidding. The woman I love has more Tupperware than Tupperware. That's no party, that's a mugging. And these home party consultants sell everything from lotion to books to toys. Not fun.

A party is when a bunch of friends get together, listen to music, maybe have some drinks and shoot the shit for a few hours. Then, back in college, if you were lucky, the night might even end with some boo-tay! Fun!

So now you should understand my apprehension when Heidi told me told me that there would be stuff to buy at this party. It would involve lotion, books, toys and alcohol. Ahhh...ok! So we made our plans to attend.

After everyone introduced themselves, our hostess proudly hefted a very large object into the air and introduced it as Danny. Instinct immediately drove me to clench my cheeks together with my hands. In case you were wondering, Danny is the answer to what lesbian horses, Clydesdales specifically, would do to each other if they could pick things up with their hooves.

I'm not kidding. This monster could double as a police baton. Actually, that could be really effective! Imagine the look on a would-be bank robber's face when he suddenly realizes that a large angry man in uniform is beating him (pun intended) into submission with a neatly circumcised 24-inch long double-ended rubber horse penis. I digress…

We were instructed to stand as couples in a circle and pass Danny from one person to another using only our legs. We'd had enough to drink that we did as we were told. (Yes, our clothes were all on! Keep dreaming, you sickos). After a couple practice runs, the game morphed into a wonderfully perverted spin-off of musical chairs. Whoever dropped Danny or was left holding him with their knees when the music stopped was out. Fun!

Well sort of. Now, I'm extremely comfortable with my sexuality, but I have to admit to feeling just a little weird when the woman next to me dropped Danny and I had to take him on the next round from a man. Of course with our beloved state legislature in session, it should have seemed much more natural than it did. I mean really…is it possible to find a bigger clusterfuck than the one meeting on Utah's Capitol Hill right now?

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