Before we eat, I’d like to go over a few things:
If your last name starts with A-Z you were supposed to bring something that we can chew in our mouths
Everyone keep their hairs to their own casserole.
Yes, I plan to use all five of these chairs, Silly. Otherwise why would I be perched atop them in a full split? If you’ll hold my beverage I can complete the pose, thank you.
You call it saltines and ketchup, I call it bruschetta Fancy!
Old man? Please don’t fondle the bundt cake. “Evening out” that last piece with your fingers is neither sanitary nor honest. Go ahead and take that last cake-nub for yourself. You deserve it.
Nice one Dude. SHOOAR the “little guy” wants a few more slices of pizza. We all know who “the little guy” is and Mr. Pizza Fetus looks about 20 weeks old. Back away from the kids buffet, and take your potluck penalty—BREADNBUTTA PICKLES BAYBEE,
No I’m not trying to disguise this non-alcoholic carbonated beverage. What you see peeking out beneath this Samovar beer cozy, is Mr. Pibb’s salty cousin PBR.
You call black olives “garnish,” I call it a manicure. Fancy!
Yo, Silver Spoons. Although your fingers do look like baby carrots, kindly remove those double-dippers from the hummus. Make that “your” hummus.
Form two lines. Keep it moving people, you don’t need to look that closely at the food: White-n-creamies, Cold-n-beanies, cocktail wienies. Move along.
I see you have the latest in portable chairs. Lovely cup holders. Have you noticed my retractable footrest/child catapult? You’re right, so 2005. Oh, and the collapsible weather bonnet—a must have. Of course mine shoots citronella-bullets. And I’d be lost without my On Star navigation—whoops, time to tushy-wiggle right!
You call it “buff-ay” I call it “boofay” Fancy!
Are you enjoying the music? Organ Grinder is huge right now. Dressing that monkey in lederhosen is inhumane, however. I need to call a potluck-foul when I see one. Obviously a peasant blouse would allow him a greater range of motion. Chop Chop Humperdink, we ain’t paying you in bananas.
Okay, who would like to lead the prayer?
Oh my gosh…now I just woke up my whole house…where do I start? so many stinkin’ funny things in there:
If …IF..I had to pick only two, they’d be the
olives “you say garnish I say manicure.” bwaahahahaha
Then, the corker, “Chop chop, we ain’t payin’ you in bananas.”
I loved this post. Loved it.
; – ) I think you are ready for a hawaiian style potluck dear.
An accurate and hilarious microcosm of what is the the all you can eat scene. I am pretty sure that I’ve said or thought every line in this post. How can it be 2010 and there are STILL people that are unaware of the societal dangers of double dipping. Mind blowing.
Have you been spying on my garden parties again??
I think there is still a picture of me with my black olive manicure as a 4 year old. Oh I was Fancy! SO SO FANCY!
This was great!
Dear Lord, please let there be deviled eggs next time. Amen.
Okay, I knew I hated pot lucks. But now I know exactly WHY I hate pot lucks.
Hilarious.
XO
A.
I should have told my parents I was drinking Mr. Pibb. I mean, when I was drinking PBR.
Thanks for the potluck tips, now I am armed and dangerous for the next one!
Another great read-out-loud-to-the-husband post. We love you.
Fantastic! There’s never any meat at a potluck. I mean, I guess those white stringy strands in Aunt Loopy’s sesame chicken salad are technically meat, but there’s no guy meat. Just so-called salads and desserts.
Casey
The very reasons I have declined my aunt and uncle’s “Summer Soiree”. And my uncle always leads the prayer. There IS NO option.
OMG, I just had one of these a few days ago, and I discovered I have NO, zero, zip, nada patience (read: tolerance) for children allowed to run wild around the food. Makes me CRAZY!! That’s why you NEED the prayer.
Mmm… Heinz bruschetta. Count me in.
(How can I miss you so when we haven’t even met yet?)
I usually head straight for the desserts. Safest bet, and you can make a satisfying meal from 3 cookies and a brownie.
Brilliant!
You’ve done it again. I don’t know from where you are inspired in your posts – but you make the ordinary somehow extraordinary and get us all to laugh at ourselves in the best of ways. I will just say though you will be hard pressed to ever find me at such an event, so I will have to take your word for it on the shenanigans that occur 🙂
yes yes!! I call it boofay too!!! Thank God I found some one else who pronounces it that way!!!
I would like to lead the prayer:
Dear Big Guy in the Sky,
If summer means potluck, let’s skip to fall. Mr. Pizza Fetus scares me. Real bad.
Amen.
Too, too funny, Ann! It’s nice to laugh on a Monday.
This reminds me so vividly of the annual Block Party in my neighborhood growing up. Oh, in so many ways. And also of my own penchant for olive manicures.
I love this. I would also like to add that if your bosoms are over the age of 60, they should not attend the potluck in a halter top. They might accidentally dip into the white’ncreamies.
“White-n-creamies, Cold-n-beanies, cocktail wienies.” You, my dear, are a potluck poet. And you didn’t even know it.
I hate it when my bundt cake gets fondled!
Good to “see” ya again, Ann!
Well Mammatalk up there got to it first, “Don’t Fondle the Bundt Cake!” HAHA! Especially when it has lemon drizzle on it 😉
You’re so silly. Love it.
I’m with Aging Mommy. I don’t know where you come with this stuff. Always funny, sometimes insane. Who would think to reference Citronella? Who remembers Citronella?
I love you.
“You call black olives “garnish,” I call it a manicure. Fancy!” So you’ve been to one of my family’s parties 🙂
Nice job,
jj
Loved this!
I kind of LIKE having my bundt cake fondled. : )
Ok, so let’s get a group night planned for NYC!! Can’t wait!
Hysterical! I think I’ve been to this same get-together.
What is worse than a potluck with kids? A potluck at the office. Like I really want to know what the crabby chick from accounting (the one with B.O.) whips up in her kitchen. no thank you.
You are hilarious. As always.