So the weekend is coming up, and your co-worker (who you aren't particularly fond of) asks you to come over on Friday night for a small get together. "I'll consider it," you lie as you return to you cubicle knowing damn well that you loathe the idea of attending a party of which you know nobody except the host, and to make things worse, he lives in Sellwood. It's not that you don't appreciate Sellwood, it's just that parking is difficult and it's full of unmarked intersections.
You quickly try to re-busy yourself, but the prospect of this party dangerously looms merely because you realized you haven't gone out since Labor Day and your blog isn't getting any hits anyway.
Friday night comes around and you find yourself at the party, but something unexpected has occurred. Contrary to what you envisioned, you are not the honored guest, the host can't be found , and you're alone. You desperately try to appear in control of the situation, but your social ineptitude best resembles that of a 10th grade girl.
This is the worst thing that a host can possibly do, right? Wrong. There's worse. The person of whom invited you could decide to not show up entirely leaving you totally in the dark.
Patrick, this is you right now. You invited me to this blog, I was hesitant, and now I am the only one contributing. This is my fourth post to your one. Despite the fact that no one has read this blog (besides Laura on Saturday), it is quite embarrassing. No internet, no cable whatever, sack up and make a post or I'm done.
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