It was either the tacos or the pinata

We had Victoria and Jerry over for a Taco Night on Sunday. We fried, oh, about 20 taco shells, and filled and ate almost all of them between the four of us. Dinner was relatively civilized. As was dessert. (Strawberry shortcake with chocolate cake instead of shortcake, which might have been one of the greatest ideas I’ve ever had.)

It was when we brought out the piñata that things got…unhinged? Maybe that's not the right word, but we certainly weren't acting like society dictates adults should act. We collected and photographed maimed toy soldiers, casualties of the piñata. (We were also yelled at by a neighbor for breaking said piñata in the alleyway by our house. Jacob “Peter Parker-ed” up the wall to hang it from the fire escape. We were in the midst of mirthful destruction when we were reminded by a voice from a window nearby that “People live here!!!”) Once back inside, things sort of disintegrated quickly. The boys had a friendly contest of who could fit more gum in their mouth at once. (There was also some brief talk of a “chewed gum sculpture,” but the idea wasn’t realized.) There were “magic towels”…you know, those super-vacuum-packed washcloths that you unwrap and put in water and they “magically expand.” At one point, I told Jerry I would give him $100 if he could get a string of Mardis Gras beads around his own neck using his mouth alone. (Which he did. Anyone know where I could get a quick $100?) We shot unwrapped bubble-gum out of our mouths in an effort to take down a tissue paper blown into the air by one member of the party. There were several variations on the whole “shoot-something-out-of-your-mouth-at-something” theme, now that I think back on it. I think we’ll be finding gum behind our couch for months. (There is no photographic evidence of any of these things.)

All in all, I felt somewhat like a guest at a party in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. Inexplicable insanity. The kind that your face hurts from afterwards. Sometimes I shudder to think what we’d all be like with alcohol in our systems. I’m glad we aren’t like that. I think it would be about the same, but with more vomiting, to be honest. I prefer the clean fun of choosing to act 12 years old when you know very well your 10-20 years older than that.

 Oh, and also, I’ve noticed a large bump on the top of my left foot which causes pain when I walk. And I have no idea where it came from.

 (We were a little overly vigorous in our pinata-smashing. These guys had to pay the price.)