Date #83: Why Do We Keep Having These F**king Dinner Parties?

Do you want to know the problem with most great t.v. shows?

Once they become really great, all the characters sort of become iconic. Think of Friends, Seinfeld, and yes, I'll even toss in Dawson's Creek.

Once the characters become iconic, the actors usually stop playing them as characters, and instead, start playing icons--which you can't really do. So the shows might continue to be successful, but then something seems like it's missing and nobody can tell what. It's because things have taken on a certain level of predictability that makes the show comforting to watch, but not really all that interesting.

Shows that try to avoid this (Six Feet Under, The Sopranos--okay, basically anything on HBO) tend to watch their core audience base dissolve over time, because the audience wants to believe they know these people; they're friends with these people. So when the writers have the characters do unexpected things so as not to become predictable people are flung out of their comfort zone--and they usually just stop watching.

The moral of the story is: No true television show can ever stay really great for long unless it achieves that perfect balance of having predictability and intrigue. (Buffy is one of the only shows I can think of that managed it somewhat nicely--although at the end it did tend to falter a bit.)

I bring all this up because I've noticed that people seem to have the same problem as great television shows. At some level they either become predictable and frustratingly boring or they become unpredictable and violently unstable along with discomforting.

So what do you do?

This all started at Turner's house where Brian, Scooter, Dwight and I were having a Heroes party (because I wanted to and I've got enough dirt on all of them to make them do it.)

SCOOTER: This might qualify as the lamest night of my life.
BRIAN: Didn't you dress up to go see Pirates of the Carribbean?
SCOOTER: Yeah.
BRIAN: Then I think this pales in comparison.
DWIGHT: Speaking of dressing up, should I have dressed up like the cheerleader?
TURNER: You? Cross-dress?
DWIGHT: Why not? It might break my mother's cold shoulder. She's been giving it to me since I informed her I will be voting for neither Hillary nor Barack in the next election.
BRIAN: So you spite her by doing drag?
ME: You should have, Dwight, male cheerleaders are hot. Remember the Bring It On boys?

http://www.durante-vita.net/images/blog_dv/2006_11/bring_it_on.jpg

TURNER: Aw, Gary loved Bring It On.
SCOOTER: I would have hammered those boys like a nail into a coffin.

Let's all just have a party in our head for a second over that sweet little image.

ME: Hey, where's Nick? I thought you guys were bringing him.

I noticed them all look at each other with unease.

ME: Um, something I should know?
TURNER: Tell him, Brian.
BRIAN: You tell him. I'm not telling him.
SCOOTER: Dude, I'm not telling him.
ME: Will somebody tell me?
DWIGHT: I'll tell him. Nick's out on a date.
ME: Okay, what was so hard about that?
DWIGHT: It's with Christopher.

Oh Christ...

ME: Is he out of his mind? How many more times is he going to make the same mistake over and over again?
BRIAN: And this is why we didn't tell you.
ME: Why? Because I'd have a normal reaction?
TURNER: No, because you turn into Mr. Judgmental.
ME: You all think Christopher is an asshole too!
SCOOTER: Yeah, but he's Scooter's asshole, man. If he wants to date him, let him.
TURNER: It's our job as friends to be supportive, not to give him a hard time every time he does something we don't agree with, you know?
ME: Dwight, come on, you can't agree with this. Republicans don't support anything.
DWIGHT: Kev, I think maybe if you were more accepting of people's choices, maybe...

I wasn't even going to give him the satisfaction of finishing the sentence.

With a brisk, America's Next Top Model type turn, I went into the living room and attempted to cool off. While the cooling commenced, I thought of my t.v. analogy, and how I, myself, and many of my friends had all fallen into the same pattern with certain things.

That's when I got my (questionably) bright idea.

During the commercial break, I let the boys in on my plan.

SCOOTER: Dude, that's the stupidest idea--
BRIAN: It's like a bad sitcom situational--
DWIGHT: I don't think I even talk about her that much--
TURNER: Kevin, it's funny, but it's not something that--

By the end of the episode, I had convinced them to give it a try.

PLAN: Screw predictability. Let us be the "Buffy"s of the world, not the "Facts of Life"ers. Let's rebel against people's perceptions of us. Let's go against our own grain. Let's...Let's...

ME: Let's throw a dinner party!

I can hear the groaning already.

Here was my challenge to my friends: For one night, we were not allowed to fall into the typical stereotypes we had created for each other--with each other.

For one night:

Scooter was not allowed to be crass, overtly obnoxious pertaining to sexuality and/or physical attraction, AND he was not allowed to call people "Dude."

Dwight was not allowed to play the token conservative. He was going to have to remain open-minded (not so tough) and no matter what, he would not be allowed to dwell on whatever travesty his mother (Mrs. Brown) had recently committed (really tough).

Brian was not allowed to be sarcastic or cynical in any way. He'd have to be optimistic and perky the entire evening.

Turner was not allowed to mope, sulk, or mention Gary in any way. He would also be the one to call people out on their junk, should he see fit. He could not give unconditional support. If someone was clearly being stupid he'd have to say so, and he would not be allowed to mediate in any arguments whatsoever. (Remember the Boy Meets World episode where they try this? Okay, well, Turner is Topanga.)

As for Me, I would not be allowed to be judgmental. I'd have to be the Turner--or the opposite of Turner, I guess--and be completely supportive no matter what. There would be no gossiping, no condescending, and no witty side comments.

(Of course, what I say here doesn't count--trust me, folks. You don't want to read me sans catty barbs, it's not pretty.)

Dwight agreed to do the social experiment at his house, even though it meant exposure to Mrs. Brown, which would make the challenge harder for him.

Nick wasn't going to know about any of this. We were going to use him as our litmus test to see how we were doing.

Of course, everyone thought I would be the one to fail.

DWIGHT: Kevin, no way are you going to be able to bite your tongue for an entire night.
BRIAN: I'll be outlasting you. I know that much.
TURNER: My lack of being supportive starts now. Kev, you're going down.
SCOOTER: You don't stand a f**king chance...Um...We don't have to start now, right?

I decided I might even the playing field a little.

Patrick is someone I've known for awhile. We actually went out on a date or two about two years ago and somehow we've managed to stay in touch even though he comes as close to utterly repelling me as anyone I've ever met.

He's liberal, but in an obnoxious and uninformed way that makes other liberals look bad. He's always speaking before he thinks, which causes him to say the dumbest one-liners you've ever heard. His only redeeming quality is that he's incredibly handsome--built like a tank.

I decided he'd be the perfect candidate for the dinner party.

When I arrived at Dwight's house, I was the last person there. Things were already off to a rousing start. Mrs. Brown and Dwight had gotten into a fight right before the first guests arrived. Of course, nobody knew that until Mrs. Brown walked downstairs from her bedroom, said a few things to Dwight that would have made Alec Baldwin balk, and then returned to her place on the second floor.

Asked by Brian and Turner what happened, Dwight only responded by smiling forcefully and saying:

DWIGHT: I'd rather not talk about it.

Game on, bitches.

At first, the only person having trouble with Patrick being my date to the dinner party was Scooter. Normally he'd pull me aside seconds after my arrival and say something to the effect of--

"I'd like to strip him down and make him call me General Harder."

But tonight he just sipped his water and nodded at me as if to say--

"Bring it, whore."

I smiled back with my look that says:

"It's already been brought, skank-o."

I have to say, I could give Gabrielle Union a run for her money.

When we all sat down to dinner, Christopher was the first to start an incendiary conversation.

CHRISTOPHER: ...I mean, why does Barack have to represent every black guy? I mean, why does there have to be only one black candidate? Then he wouldn't have to be the 'black guy.'

I noticed Dwight chewing extra hard on his roll. Brian also looked like he wanted to make a comment but instead he just asked me to hand him the salad. Nick was already picking up on the change in his buddies.

NICK: Why are you guys being so quiet tonight?
ME: We're not. We're just enjoying the food.
BRIAN: It's delicious, Dwight.
DWIGHT: Thank you. I made it myself right before my mo...um, before...just before you guys got here and I nearly had a nervous breakdown.
ME: And what, perchance, would be the cause of that nervous breakdown?
DWIGHT: Probably the gnono you gave me.
ME: What?
DWIGHT: Brian can't be sarcastic, but I can.
BRIAN: No fair!
NICK: Huh?
ME: Inside joke, inside joke.

The quiet descended upon us again.

PATRICK: Personally I think Barack would be an amazing President. Think how pissed off the people in the South would be. F**kin' hicks.

Thank you, Jesus. I love winning, and you love it when I win, and I know this.

I thought Dwight was going to choke on his bread.

CHRISTOPHER: I'm with you. I can't stand those people.
NICK: Come on, Christopher. 'Those people?' You sound like...
CHRISTOPHER: What? The enemy.

He laughed this obnoxious laugh and Brian proceeded to butter his bread with an almost too-forceful vigor.

I've never seen people enjoy bread so much, let me tell you.

PATRICK: Not only that, but the guy is hot. I mean, is there anything hotter than a black guy in bed?
SCOOTER: I really don't think that's appropriate dinner conversation.
NICK: I'm sorry. Did you just say that? I mean, I agree with you, but did you just say that?
PATRICK: Lighten up, man. God, Kevin, you didn't tell me we were going to have prudes her tonight.
TURNER: That's funny. He didn't tell us he was bringing a giant dick with ugly shoes.

We all looked at Turner.

TURNER: Sorry, was that not supportive?
NICK: Turner, you feeling all right?
TURNER: Actually, that felt kind of good.
NICK: Okay...
TURNER: By the way, Scooter--I don't know what barn you were raised in, but I don't need to see the food physically going down your throat, so you can close your mouth when you eat. Kevin, tomorrow we're going shopping and I'm going to buy you something that an obese man couldn't fit it, and Brian, I had more sex than you did when we lived together even though I tried to downplay it and say we didn't.

We ran out of bread.

NICK: Turner, where is all this coming from? Is it the break-up?
TURNER: I...don't want to talk about that.
CHRISTOPHER: I know how you feel, man. Every time a guy breaks up with me it puts me in a bad mood.
TURNER: Then you're probably...

I noticed him trail off.

ME: What was that, Turner?
TURNER: I said, um...

He seemed to be debating something.

TURNER: I said I just realized I lost a bet I made.

I had him in the bathroom within minutes.

ME: What are you doing?
TURNER: I can't do this.
ME: Why not? You were on a roll!
TURNER: I can't just attack Christopher. He doesn't know about the challenge. Besides, I don't want Nick being mad at me.
ME: So you're out now?
TURNER: Yeah, I'm out.
ME: Oh, fine.

When we went back into the dining room, Dwight was yelling something up the stairs at--I presumed--his mother.

DWIGHT: I DON'T CARE HOW LONG YOU WERE IN LABOR WITH ME, I AM NOT VOTING FOR JOHN EDWARDS! I'D VOTE FOR STALIN FIRST JUST TO PISS YOU OFF! YOU'RE CRAZY! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BAG LADY!

As soon as he stopped yelling, he looked around and say very calmly.

DWIGHT: I think I've lost that bet too. Let me get the potatoes.

Nick asked what bet we were talking about, but we dodged the question. Brian, Scooter, and I were the only people still left in it. Luckily, Patrick was about to up the ante for me.

PATRICK: So Brian, you used to live with Scooter and Turner?
BRIAN: And now I live with Nick.
PATRICK: And you didn't get any of them in the sack?
SCOOTER: Not true. Brian and I dated before he met Kevin.
PATRICK: Good to know he's not completely asexual.

He laughed at this, but I could see Brian about to bubble over. Apparently Scooter thought now would be a good time to eradicate some of his competition.

SCOOTER: Oh, I wouldn't say that. The sex in our relationship was mostly asexual.

Hey, you couldn't call it a crass statement. It was practically Wilde. Scooter even threw in a hearty "A ha ha" to go with it. That sent Brian over the edge.

BRIAN: To be honest, during our relationship, Scooter was outsexual.
CHRISTOPHER: Outsexual?
PATRICK: What does that mean?
BRIAN: It means that while we were together, he was out having sex with everybody else.

I almost spit out my Sprite.

BRIAN: And I, ladies and gentlemen, am also out of that little bet--and gladly.
NICK: What bet is this?
ME: A bet that only Scooter and I are now in.
SCOOTER: Tarry ho, matey.
ME: What are you a fencing pirate?

With that, Scooter decided to up my ante.

SCOOTER: Christopher, pray tell, what do you think about the show Heroes?

Son-of-a-bitch.

CHRISTOPHER: I'm sorry, do people actually watch that?

Most of the country, actually, you doozer.

(Yeah, I called him a Fraggle character, whatever.)

CHRISTOPHER: I've tried watching that show, but I just don't have the attention span. Besides, I think it's ridiculous to expect to do serialized television that intricately. People aren't smart enough to follow it.

You mean you're not smart enough to follow it--where is the goddammed bread? I want more bread!

CHRISTOPHER: And of course it just adds to the pop culture fascination with superheroes--since people are too chickenshit to confront their own realities.
PATRICK: I'm with you, man.

All right, now even I was getting sick of Patrick. I took him in the kitchen with me under the pretense of helping Dwight bring out dessert. I was about to end this competition.

ME: Patrick, do me a favor.
PATRICK: Sure, what?
ME: Seduce Scooter.
PATRICK: Excuse me?
ME: Just enough to get him to say something dirty.
PATRICK: I don't get it.
ME: It's that bet we keep talking about. I bet him that he wouldn't say anything sexual all night. Normally he would have already made several advances on you.
PATRICK: So he's not a big prude?
ME: Far from it.
PATRICK: Awesome, he's really hot. Oh, sorry, I forgot I'm your date.
ME: No, it's okay. Go with that instinct. Just get him to say something lewd.
PATRICK: No problem-o.

Hey, I never said I was going to fight fair.

Back at the table, Old Brian and Old Dwight were going back and forth with Christopher.

DWIGHT: The woman is a pariah!
BRIAN: Forget Hillary! He just called me Whitie!
NICK: Brian, I call you Whitie sometimes.
BRIAN: You say it lovingly. He said it like he was about to sick the black panthers on me.
CHRISTOPHER: Are you calling me militant?
TURNER: Guys, let's try to calm down.
DWIGHT: Kevin, will you please say something?
BRIAN: Shut this guy down.
ME: Guys, who are any of us to judge him?

They kept at it while my little sub-plot developed in front of me.

PATRICK: Scooter, do you like chocolate on your dessert?
SCOOTER: Um...yeah, I guess.
PATRICK: What about on...other things?
SCOOTER: Other things?
PATRICK: Yeah, you know...strawberries, brownies, stomachs?
SCOOTER: Stomachs?
PATRICK: Nice, flat stomachs.
SCOOTER: Uh...Kevin, I think your date is being a little--
ME: Hey, I'm not one to look down on people for their promiscuity. I say live and let live. Let Patrick do what he wants.
SCOOTER: You mother--
ME: What's that?
SCOOTER: Nothing, dear friend.

Patrick leaned over the table.

PATRICK: You know what I really want? I want you to tell me what you would do if I climbed under this table right now.
SCOOTER: Um...I would...just be very...upset.
PATRICK: Really? Oh, okay then. Guess I won't--
SCOOTER: For the love of God, get under the table, unzip my pants, and start @#^$$^ my #$%# until I #$#! THERE! ARE YOU HAPPY? IS EVERYBODY HAPPY? I'M A HORNY MOTHERF*#$*#! I'M A GUY! I'M NORMAL! I'M OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do it.

NICK: I still don't understand what the hell is going on.
ME: Don't worry about it, Nick. I think this'll be the last dinner party we have for awhile.
EVERYBODY: Amen.

When Christopher went to get Nick's coat, I cornered him.

ME: Christopher, you and I need to talk.
CHRISTOPHER: I knew it. I knew you were going to be all over me as soon as we were alone. Come on, Kev. Take what you need, but be quick. Look, we got a coat pile right here.
ME: I'd throw up in my mouth but I don't have much time. You need to end things with Nick--definitively.
CHRISTOPHER: Not unless you're going to give me a reason to.
ME: How's this for a reason? I've had my cell phone on record in my pocket just now. I've got you soliciting me on tape.
CHRISTOPHER: Whatever. Nick knows how I am.
ME: But does everyone else? Because a photo of you mixed with this audio on youtube could certainly start some fires.
CHRISTOPHER: Not going to stop me from getting laid though, is it, Kevin?
ME: Maybe not, but I've got enough energy in me to drag your name through so much mud even you won't be able to figure out what's true and what's not about you.
CHRISTOPHER: All that just because you want me away from your friend?
ME: My friends are me. They're an extension of my personality, the same way I am of theirs. If they screw up, so do I, and vice versa. You are a blight on whatever you attach yourself to, and you will not attach yourself to me in any way. That's why you have to go.
CHRISTOPHER: Wonder how Nick would feel about that.
ME: I don't care how he would feel about that. When someone's family, you don't bite your tongue and let someone run in front of a train. And my friends are my family. Not to mention I'm Italian. Ergo, I don't plan on letting anyone ruin their lives as long as I'm around and they're close to me. I only shut my mouth when I don't care enough about someone to open it. When it comes to the people you love, you speak up.

At the end of the night, Nick and Christopher took off (big surprise) and Patrick and Scooter decided to go out for a drink (even bigger surprise). That left Turner, Dwight, Brian and I to hang back and laugh at how stupid we'd been all night.

Maybe friends should be like Friends--a little bit on the predictable side.

FRIEND: And which friend would you be?
ME: I think I'd be Ross.
FRIEND: Is that the one that never gets laid?
ME: I'm pretty sure they all got laid a lot.
FRIEND: Oh then honey, you need to find another analogy.
ME: Thanks.
FRIEND: Just promise me no more f**king dinner parties. These long entries hurt my head after a night of drinking and illegal fireworks.
ME: Fireworks?
FRIEND: Don't ask. I'm trying to mysterious and unpredictable.
ME: You're kicking someone out of your bedroom as you're talking to me right now, aren't you?
FRIEND: It's like you've got a f**king crystal ball tucked in your closet behind the ugly shirts.

Good news: I think Christopher got the picture. A mere two days later he and Nick were broken up. I didn't ask for the details. I just wanted to be supportive.

Hey, you have to learn something from these social experiments, don't you?