A Lady Leg Party.

Classy.

Women love parties. They love wearing short skirts, tight blouses, showing a little leg, a hint of cleavage and they enjoy being off colour with their friends. In the last few months I have become this party-obsessed diva. Not booze crazy like Tonya from "The Real World" (you know the one) or anything. More like Martha Stewart crazy. She always keeps it classy. I'd host a party every day if I could. I'd buy bags and bags of mixed nuts, pretzels, and candy just to have them on hand in case more people decided to show up. I'd prepare lavish meals in heels, put on a ridiculous amount of make-up and lip sync to Kanye West in front of the mirror before my guests arrived just for heck of it. I had a party last night for Ms. Cassi Randles' half-birthday. Really, it was just an excuse to get a bunch of foxy ladies in my apartment and play spin the bottle. What a great night. These things happened: The neighbors complained and we ate a lot of cream sauce. Cigarettes were smoked, parking spots were reserved and random Facebook messages to boys were definitely a hot topic issue. My girlfriend Duffie sprinted to the corner store twice to buy everyone Sprite and beer. She is a dear heart. Most importantly, our legs were out! (In one case, a body was out!) And in a moment, everyone seemed to clear out. Empty bottles, empty glasses, a sheet pan of roasted brocoli crumbs and half a confetti cake are all that remain. I'll tackle the dishes in a bit. I'll probably vacuum too and/or sweep but mostly I just want to crawl back into my little warm bed and have dreams of the next party I get to host. Dearest Cassi, I like you so much. I hope you had fun last night. I love your voice, your stories, your laugh, your swagger and how you make me feel good about my life. I'm so glad to have met you. Would it be awkward if I started calling my apartment Party Central? What if I started answering my video phone like that? Just think about it. Obviously nothing is set in stone..