He Represents the Lollipop Guild

Yesterday, I went to a party at a candy magnate's house. I got off the train and was picked up by Marlena, whose lovely and friendly family fed me until it was time for the party.

Didn't have a lot of details about it, other than it was supposed to be utterly ridiculous. Well, it was. After a panic attack about not having the correct clothing, Andrew Cuming was nice enough to drop me off an extra pair of pants. (He first insisted I wear combat pants, but I was sure enough that he was kidding.)

The house was ridiculous. After a fifteen minute GOLF CART ride from the outer gates to the inner household, the first thing we're greeted with is a white chocolate model of the White House that is labeled "Obama's future house."

There was a ridiculously expensive buffet and an open bar, so naturally there were hundreds of freeloaders. But what was really ridiculous was the fireworks. The guy spends more on his fireworks than the city of New York City does. And it showed. A live band played a series of pieces that were then coordinated to the music. It was rude. They started with the Olympic Theme, then played increasingly cheesy songs ranging from the Gandalf/Saruman battle in Lord of the Rings to "Proud to be an American."

"Blog on your blog that I say hi." Okay, Marlena.