House needs a warming

Seven nights from now, a gaggle of school mums and (hopefully) dads (bloody Bledisloe Cup) will be dancing like loons to ’80s music in my rather small lounge room.

I’ve decided House needs a Warming.

And a chance to thank people for the help and love they’ve given me over the past six months.

Oh, and an excuse to dance. How often do you get to do THAT in your late 40s? A few of us had been contemplating a trip to Retro in the city, then I thought bugger it, let’s do it at my place instead.

My new neighbours are going to LOVE me.

Ah well. I’m only here for six months, I’ll keep my head down.

You know me and parties: I’m not doing things by half measures. I’ll be kitted out in a stone-washed denim mini skirt, orange fake tan, fluoro lime t-shirt and fluoro pink court shoes. I may even crimp my hair.

(I’m a teensy bit worried about looking like mutton, but have fanciful notions of cutting carbs, sugar and diet soda in the lead-up so I look as schmick as possible … Well … apart from pizza with former workmates on Monday … And Mexican with a new blogger mate on Wednesday … But other than that my body will be a temple … Well … Apart from a little Stoli …)

I’m heading to K-Mart for an 8-litre glass drink dispenser today, to fill with Sex On The Beach punch. I’ve stocked up on plastic cocktail glasses. I’m serving Slippery Nipple shots. There will be a smoke machine and flashing lights (I hope … I’ve put a school dad in charge of that bit). I have a couple of disco balls. The mum of my eldest daughter’s best friend is loaning me her speakers.

I’m itching to burn a few 80s CDs from my iCloud, but I’m entering my third week without broadband so I’m getting a little nervy. I begged a lovely customer service person at iinet for housewarming assistance so hopefully they’ll pull their finger out.

A school mum has offered to make sausage rolls. Lovely others are promising to bring a plate. I’m providing a spread of Cheezels, cabanossi, cheese cubes and Jatz.

I hope everyone has fun. I especially – and selfishly – hope I have fun. I just need to go easy on the Slippery Nipples.

I’ll let you know how it all pans out. Probably not right away … My head might be a bit hurty. I’m kinda regretting my decision to book tickets for Husband, the kids and I to see Doctor Who at our local cinema at noon the next day. But a vat of Diet Coke should get me through.

PS You’ll be relieved to hear Husband isn’t invited to the party. I’ve tasked him with babysitting instead. He’ll turn up at 7.30pm to collect the girls and I’ll be quite the sight …