On being a good host

The girls came over last night to watch Angels in America last night (which I like much better now that I know it's a two-parter and yes, I feel like a dumbass thank you very much) and eat my delectable pork chops with sage and prosciutto cooked in a buttery white wine sauce. A little back story - the roommate and I lack a certain coordination that most normal people have. We break things, we spill things - at least 15 wine glasses have met their end in the past year or so.

Last night there was a shoe polish accident, several stubbed toes and for the grand finale, I launched a half-full (optimist!) glass of red wine right at Alyssa, staining not only the Christmas-themed tablecloth, but her brand new powder-blue corduroys. Thank God she still loves me, and even agreed to be my date for New Year's.

The Christmas tree has been up for about 24 hours. Place your bets now on when the first metallic Martha Stewart ornament shatters to bits, and whether myself, the roommate, or diabolical cats Mulder and John Brown will be responsible.