Oh you fancy, huh? Oh you fancy, huh?

I'm about to introduce you to a secret movement that started right here in the homes of Chattavegas.  It's probably going to change your life and you'll want to add your membership status to your driver's license right next to being an organ donor.  It's called the No Expectations party.  


Get ready for some shit that will light your soul on fire.


A NEP is when you want to entertain people like you did when you were 19 but you're too old for that now and it's embarrassing when you're a 30-something hostess with the leastest and everyone around you throws lavish dinner parties all the time but you have a kitchen that will give you gangrene of the eyes and no talent or motivation so you give this "idea" a name to make it seem legitimate.  

here.  Pretty, but I bet there were lots of expectations.

It's when you want to hang out with people but don't want to break out the fancy china that you don't actually own.  And you want to wear your favorite fleece pants and kitten tshirt and don't want anyone's gawddamn judgey eyes on you!  And there's probably a load of laundry on your couch that you'll have to scoot over (or use as a pillow if it's warm) and towels in the bathroom floor.  And you don't have any food other than peanut butter, gouda and vodka and if someone doesn't want any of that then they are free to bring what they'd rather eat even if it's a Big Mac.  None of that is important since you just need company while cleaning out your closet or want to watch a marathon of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills with a group because it's extra fun to judge other people.  

A great start to a NEP!  (not my hand.  I don't know who the hell that is but they're invited.)

It's about the people, not the expectations.  (I mean your friend people not the RHOBH people.  I don't even think those are real people...)   

Fuck that!!  The birth of the No Expectations movement.  It's BYOGB.  Bring your own garbage bag.

It's how you let your guests know that they don't need to worry about what casserole to bring (this IS the South ya know) or what to wear or psyche themselves up in case that other bitch they don't like is there.  None of that. No Expectations is the great equalizer.   If you're the type of person who sucks at domesticity (ahem...) then this lifestyle is for you.  Even if you attempt something nice and fail then just look at your burnt chicken and say "No Expectations!!" and everyone will laugh and laugh and laugh at the sheer wonder of it.   Feel free to include it on invites: Having some people over on Saturday for salad that may have brown edges on it and cheap wine.  No Expectations!  Whhheeeeee!!!  You're immediately forgiven of all possible failures and have renounced all responsibilities of providing a good time.  It's in gawd's hands now.  Pray for accidental fabulosity to rain from the sky like thousands of dead birds.

Once you entertain the No Expectations way it begins to move into all other areas of your life.  I have essentially become the No Expectations principle.  It's a No Expectations house, a No Expectations blog and a No Expectations madame.  I rather pride myself on my low maintenance and casual attitude towards cleaning up the cat hair tumbleweeds that forever blow through the landscape of the MS Ranch.  Oh you don't like doing dishes?  Well I haven't washed a dish in 17 days muthafuckas!!!  *middle fingers point to crotch*  It's kinda like Sunday every fucking day here!!! 


But sometimes I forget what it's like to NOT live in a No Expectations world.  Last month a friend of the Sauce surprised me with a free hotel room in Hotlanta at a swankified Buckhead establishment!  HOLLLAAA!!  I'm making the *raise the roof* gesture right now even though you can't see it.  It was a hotel with valet parking (that I didn't use) and multiple stars after it's name and no weekly rates advertised.   

My room.  Just kidding - it's the Buckhead Intercontinental.

I jumped at that faster than Camille Grammer jumps on a rich dick.  Imma take myself on a fancy weekend date!!  I drove down and spent the weekend Christmas shopping and drinking up big city life.  When my feet were tired and my credit card hot from all the action it was getting I retired to my cushy suite.  I had a nice dinner with lots of carbs.  A couple of gin and tonics with Sapphire NOT Seagram's because that's how I roll when I'm being fancy.  Pillows so soft I almost suffocated when I laid my head down.  Sheets tucked in so tight my feet lost circulation.  Pure heaven.  And then this:

YOU'RE SO PRETTY!  

My bath at home has tons of vintage charm and pitted chrome fixtures for "personality" and shitty lighting so I forgot what it was like to soak in a real bathtub.  *sob, sob, sob*  I'm gonna spend the night in this thing!  With these:

overpriced but worth it for the packaging...

And dessert:

I destroyed these.

Sweet baby jeezus in the bathtub this was awesome!  


Unfortunately I'm so out of practice doing nice things for myself that after 10 minutes in a super steamy bath after multiple cocktails, a giant meal and a pound of chocolate I was sweaty and felt like I was going to vomit.  So I dangled precariously out of the tub to open the door for fresh air and just hung there, draped over the edge of the tub, to cool off so I didn't spew chunks in the bathwater thereby wasting the deliciously overpriced dinner that I just treated myself to.  That would really have ruined my weekend.  And the maid's...

But I survived and smelled delicious.  Of course it wasn't all fancy sheets and lychee sugar cubes, the universe did remind me that I can never escape rednecks because at about 4 in the morning some dudes were in my hall getting into a word tussle.  I heard a lot of shouting and then "at 11 AM when we check out I'm going to kill you" followed by the weepy pleading of some woman.  I can only assume it was a threeway gone bad or someone was really upset over the SEC game.  Thanks for ruining my fancy sleep you white trash assholes.  I didn't drive two hours and pay for parking to feel like I'm living at home again!!!!

Murderous threats and almost vomiting aside, it was a pretty damn good weekend.  So good in fact that I think I'm going to make a point in 2011 to get some rich dick be nicer to the Madame.  I don't believe in resolutions because I'm such a rebel I don't even like to follow my own rules so I'll just make this a general theme.   I need to tap into my Jungian Madame archetype (I swear there's one) and explore my true inner fabulosity of being nice to me.  INNER is right because I'm broke so I can't do anything that actually involves spending lots of money like getting regular pedicures for my Flinstone toes or switching to Sapphire permanently (what am I a jizzillionaire???) but small things.  Think rich, act poor.  I'm going to use the fancy guest soap and turn the heat up a degree or two so my teeth quit chattering at night.  Burn the candles I like every day.  Perhaps while I'm taking a lychee sugar cubed bath!  I'll make nicer dinners for myself.  Use my nice $800 wrinkled sheets more rather than save them for some stupid reason.  Maybe I'll throw a party and serve dinner AT THE DINING TABLE!!!  *gasp*


I think I'll make this summer jam of 2010 my theme song but I'll be fancy in spirit only because I don't think my hair or nails will be done like the queen Mary J. Blige. A Madame can fake it til she makes it.

I'm also accepting theme names for the year.  Last year it was "Make my yard my bitch 2010" but I just haven't found anything with quite the same catchy ring for this year.  Feel free to make 20 'leven your "No Expectations" year.  It's my gift to the world!!  We should make badges and yard signs to announce our status!  How bout y'all come over Saturday night and we'll do dinner and crafts?  No expectations.