I sure love throwing parties, I just kinda hate going to them. I love choosing a fun theme and all that entails, but once the elephants have done their dance and the acrobats have shimmied down my chimney, I’m not so sure I need to be there. I obsess over my parties like an artist would over a work of art, so once created, ain’t I done? I’m not a guest and I have prepared all there is to prepare. I won’t be wowed by the pina colada sorbet or even the adorable cupcakes, because after you’ve ”tasted” more than six, you’re no longer that impressed. You’re too busy to engage in satisfying conversation with any one person, so you’re left feeling like a shallow friendless snob. Worse still, you can’t help but notice how much fun everyone else is having, and what appear to be meaningful connections among people you can barely stand by the time you’ve cleaned up your last spill. Who me? Cranky?