The Party

Everyone knows AR throws awesome parties. In Montréal, they were legend. Now in London, she's finally gone international.

On Friday, we went hors-d'oeuvre shopping at Marks & Spencer's in Wimbledon. Armed with frozen Indian nibblies and sausage rolls, we then hit the Bromley-by-Bow Tesco for chips, juice, beer, jello, and a large jug of rubbing alcohol cleverly disguised as vodka.

Saturday, the jello shots were released from their ice cube prison, the apartment was cleaned, David and I defected and went shopping (you should see the jeans he bought), and then we waited. I was sent on another mission to Tesco's to buy some destressing cigarettes for the hostess. It was the first time I'd ever bought cigarettes in my life and I felt a little bit badass.

Guests began to arrive a little after nine. The numbers were very respectable. There was a large Canadian contingent and a large Swedish contingent. Hockey was not discussed.

Kudos to AR, hostess with (yes, I'm going to write it) the mostess.