party time, part 6127.

As so often happens 'round these parts, we've decided that it's "time for a party".

At our last apartment, well...we used to have a lot of parties. Or more accurately: we had a good number of small "dinner parties", several medium-sized "get-togethers", and a few rather large and memorable bashes, including that rare bird (pictured above), the Successful New Year's Party. You know the one where, although alarming things happen: someone you don't know does a serious swandive off a kitchen counter, faceplanting into the corner of the stovetop; someone else is allegedly "pushed" down during Nieuwmarkt midnight fireworks and returns with an ugly bloody gash on her calf; the cats disappear and the party has to be "paused" for 10 minutes to make sure they're inside because they've never been outside before in their lives...

Although all of that happens, the oven diver is carried upstairs and put to bed (asked if she needed anything, she replied "vodka" and then fell asleep), the leg gash is swabbed and gauzed, the cats are found...

...and the food is exotic and excellent because you are fortunate enough to have friends that can really cook; just a few too many people bring unexpected numbers of people so that it seems ever-so-slightly overcrowded for an hour or two; random and not-so-random DJs step up to the task masterfully and everybody dances, you manage to properly gauge your own alcohol intake, and you go to bed at 9am feeling good about the world and your place in it.

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We've lived in our current apartment almost exactly 1 year, and we have not yet had a party party. Yes, there are good reasons: my primary co-partier was away in the Arctic north for almost 5 months. Upon her return, I was absolutely mired in work goop, nose to the grindstone like the proverbial paperhanger until the holiday parties set upon us like a pack of hungry Duran Duran wolves. And then her parents came to party visit, and then we went on vacation, etc. etc. etc.

So, sure. There are reasons. But what I'm saying is...in the words of King Geedorah and Mr. Fantastik:

it's on nigga
on and crackin'
like Dig'em
lips be smackin'.

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Obviously, after the guest list (unfortunately, the supercomputer-like calculations required to properly calibrate the ideal mix of people who will be interested in each other or can at least all have fun together are beyond the scope of this page), the first consideration is the food. Actually, for me that comes before the guest list.

This highlights one of the very few things that my co-partier and I disagree on. One of them is dub music, which is not very relevant in terms of food. The other is (sniff) cilantro. She is a "cilantro/soap" gene person (I realize that this enzyme/gene thing is still under debate, but I'm hoping that that's the explanation), and I am currently in the mood for something cilantro-heavy. I'm aware that cilantro can be served in a bowl on the side. In fact, one might say that that's a better way to do it for a party anyway since apparently something like 25% of people might have this soap gene (Source: Wikipedia).

I'm just saying: we don't disagree about much: but this "party food" thing brings up the one thing we may never see eye to eye on (there's still a chance for dub, I think), this cilantro issue, and it's just not fair...because, dammit...OK, Andy puts a bunch of cilantro in his party food and it's great. And I should be able to, too. Because otherwise he has an unfair advantage. There, I said it. It's out.

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Up next: More procrastination in the guise of Menu Planning!

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P.S. I wish it would snow.

UPDATE: Six hours later, it is snowing.