I am folding laundry in my sweat pants when the phone rings.
I am adjusting the straps on a plunging red push-up bra when the phone rings.
"I am a little embarrassed to be asking you this," she says.
I am laughing before she even gets the words out. She wants to know what I am wearing.
"Don't talk dirty to me unless you mean business," I say.
But she is serious. She wants to know what I am wearing to the party. "This is not fair," I whine. "I promised Mr. Kamikaze I would stop making fun of Midwesterners and you guys just keep serving this stuff up. What am I supposed to do?"
"I know, I know," she says. "But seriously."
"That is what makes it so funny," I say. "You know we aren't required to do this anymore, right?" I say. "It's right there in the manual under 'grown-ups'. Oh wait. There is an asterisk here ... something about a 12-state region between the coasts..."
Still, I take pity on her. I share with her some tips from my forthcoming book The Underachiever's Guide to Holiday Party Dressing in the Midwestern Suburbs: 1. Build from the shoes up. 2. Make them fabulous. Go tall for house parties where you won't have to do much walking. 3. If you feel you simply must wear your appliqué Christmas sweater, make sure that at least your toenail polish says slut.
Then I say, "I have to go. There are people I need to call to start mocking you right away."
"I know," she says. Then she adds, "But it seems to me that you have actually put some thought into what you are going to wear to a Midwestern Christmas party. Why couldn't I make fun of you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," I tell her. "You don't even have a blog."