I have an unnatural love for a party come rain or sunshine. In fact, this love of a good time has got me in a world of trouble.
I remember when, a few years back, I tried shamelessly to crash some big man’s house party.
I assumed that, since this man was enjoying the proceeds of our taxes, this party he’d thrown would be for ‘World Cup’.
Well, I was wrong. It seemed that he’d had the do to celebrate his child’s birthday; and he assumed that the boy was too young to enjoy the pleasures of a cold beer.
That’s right; I’d crashed a Fanta-party!
But I’m happy to say that not all my experiences are that heart-stopping.
Like last Friday for instance. I was totally without gahunda when, just like manna from heaven, I got a call from a certain lady friend asking to use my digs as a party venue.
My only question was, “what time”? The best part of hosting a party is that all I have to provide is seats and tables. Alcohol and food are not within my responsibilities.
I can drink all I want without spending even a franc. Some people call me cheap but I prefer being called pragmatic; with the rising prices one should try to make savings when one can.
Anyway, this party was supposed to be a surprise birthday party for some lady friend of hers and I only made one request when I heard that.
“Is it all right if I call the boys?
The poor darling had a problem with that plan; all she said was that they had to bring their own drinks; she couldn’t afford to buy enough booze for all of them.
The guys were overjoyed to find out that there was a do at my place and having to buy their own drinks wasn’t going to be a problem.
I got the house ready in a jiffy, made myself comfortable and waited for the festivities to begin. The party planner arrived at around seven that evening bringing two bottles of booze and a birthday cake.
“BIRTHDAY CAKE”?! I mean, who in this day and age still have cake on their birthdays? Why waste money on that sweet nothing when you can buy more booze? People’s priorities are all wrong these days.
People started coming at around ten and then it hit eleven o’clock and the trickle became a flood.
The gatekeeper was kept on his toes as car after car honked incessantly, demanding to be let it. I wasn’t playing host this time, however. Nooo…I was partaking in the booze that was abundant.
It was so abundant that I did something that I never do; mix liquors. Sure you can enjoy Uganda Waragi with a Fanta Citron or whiskey and coke. But it’s not usually advisable to mix Waragi with whiskey; that’s never a smart move.
But I’d stopped being intelligent a few hours back. So, without a second thought, I got an empty glass and promptly poured a mixture of Sprite, J&B whiskey, Waragi and some weird mint drink.
I stirred and took a sip. It was delicious. But people couldn’t let me have my drink in peace; everyone who took a sip of my drink demanded that I made them a cocktail as well.
Anyone who knows what these liquids on their own will testify to what they can accomplish as a team. People started removing their sweaters and the girls begun dancing frantically.
The party was getting quite rowdy (I was wondering how I’d get them to leave) and just when I was getting desperate (I was feeling the effects and wanted to sleep) someone suggested B-Club. You should have seen people vanish.
The next day I was getting calls from random people wondering when I’d throw another do and asking the ingredients of the cocktail. Well, now you all know, so stop calling me.