Most of us like parties, unless they happen to be right next to where we’re trying to sleep, study, read, or whatever. One Baltimore couple put up with people in the next apartment who not only didn’t invite them to their blasts, but also made them suffer through the horrendously noisy debacles all evening long, then well into the morning.
“It was all screaming, singing, cursing, and the sound of things breaking and crashing,” an anguished Mr. Nice-Guy-Nextdoor told me on a talk show. “The next time it happened we went over that afternoon with some coffee and light food and tried to be nice about the whole thing. They treated us like jerks.
“Their next party followed that same awful script. Only this time I got my tape recorder and very sensitive microphone up against the wall – a typically parchment thin apartment wall – and recorded about ninety minutes of the hysteria and hoopla. They finally quit about five in the morining. At nine, I put both our huge stereo speakers right smack up aginst the wall where I knew their bedroom was and turned up the volume on my set as I played back their party to them.
“It took about ten minutes for that anguished couple next door to come over pleading. I smiled and said, `Hey, I thought you were having such a good time you’d like to enjoy your party all over again.”
Formal and semiformal dinner parties are wonderful settings to create embarrasment if your mark happens to be the host or hostess and you don’t mind being the actor in this little melodrama. Phil Anders is an expert at being as rotten as he seems on each page of his wonderful, charming, and witty book, *How to Lose Friends and Influence Enemies (See Sources).*
Phil suggests you taste your food, find it repulsive, then spit it out – partially chewed – onto the table. You may also berate the host at this point for serving cheap or spoiled foods. Phil also says to spill food and drink on other guests, then make jokes about it.
If you finish eating before the others and are still hungry, Phil suggests you can simply help yourself to food on other people’s plates. Other Anderisms for a dinner party include blowing your nose loudly, as often and as messily as possible while still at the table, preferably using someone else’s napkin, the table cloth, or your sleeve; belch often and loudly so it sounds as if your going to throw up; and break wind at the table. “Nothing feels better after pigging out,” Phil writes.
Phil Anders is a great guy on your guest list. I wonder if he rents himself out for Hayduking duties. Phil?
If I may add some other similar suggestions, you can also belch or cough while some sweet prig is trying to say grace. Or, you can shout something like “Amen, amen, already, let’s get to eating this slop…PIG OUT TIME!!!” just as grace is being finished. Be sure to step on the last few lines of grace with your shouts.
More revenge ideas for Parties
It’s always fun to drop into a number of what I call olde phart bars — the seedy downtown places where drunken men hang around from morning to evening, pouring down oceans of booze but never seeming to get falling-down drunk. The place stinks, and they stink. It’s a great place to make up a guest list for your mark’s party.
Have a couple of beers and talk with the old duffers, unless everyone’s uptight about a stranger being there. Usually, though, old pharts in bars are friendly. After a bit of social ice has been clinked, tell them about a keg party “you’re” having. Obviously, you use the mark’s name and give his address. Early Sunday afternoon is a good time to schedule the party.
If you hit enough bars on Saturday and talk to enough old drunks, your mark should have a helluva wingding show up at his house Sunday afternoon, all hung over and roaring to get started again. Salud!
Remember Donald Segretti, Richard Nixon’s unofficial classless clown? Apparently, he could have easily written a book from memory. In any case, Segretti came up with a party “on behalf of” the late Hubert Humphrey, thought to be a threat to Nixon back in 1972. Segretti printed up thousands of invitations to a luncheon with Humphrey, set for 1 April in Milwaukee. He had the invitations distributed all over the black ghettos of that city.
They read, “FREE! — All you can eat — lunch with beer, wine or soda. With Senator Hubert H. Humphrey, Lorne Greene, Mrs. Martin Luther King.” He gave a time and place, too. Of course, there was no lunch, no drinks, and no people there other than hundreds of hungry, thirsty, and highly irritated people. Should we say they were non-Humphrey voters?
The next stunt demands that you or your personal agent arrive at a party thrown by the mark. Among your mark’s other munchie dishes you should include a selection of candied laxatives. You can serve a commercial product, which is already adequately disguised as candy, or you can make your own by coating and/or coloring stronger constipation-relief medicines. Be creative with the disguise. The result of having people eat mittfuls of these bowel busters is breathtaking.
Woolsey Newcomer and Enos Pomerene remember a party a number of years back in which a barrel of beer washed down the thirst of the folks gobbling bogus candy, which was really a powerful laxative.
“The digestive hell began the morning after the party and lasted up to four days for some people,” Woolsey recalled. “The guys had been stuffing those laxatives in their mouths and washing it all down with some draft beer. What a combination! We had some sick folks.”
Woolsey always wondered who had infiltrate the candy dish.
A more subtle relation to the dish full of laxatives is to get a candy mold from a confectionery-supply house. These are usually in the form of little animals, Santas, etc. Molds for chocolate Easter bunnies are probably the most common example. You simply melt a little bit of real chocolate and a good bit of chocolate laxative together, fill the mold, and turn out some homemade candy with an explosive punch to it.
Finally, if you know your mark is having a party any given day or night, that would be a splendid time to cause the utilities to be shut off or otherwise disrupted. Contemporary civilized socializers just can’t handle disruption of modern conveniences like power and water, and they tend to remember the host/hostess (your mark) and identify him/her with the failure. It’s a good, subtle, nasty trick