Earth Day is for suckaz

Earlier this week I was getting ready for my Earth Day party. You know, downloading all those "green" recipes from Rachael Ray's website—what an environmentalist that gal is, eh? She's an inspiration. Then I was gathering my earth-friendly party gear—cocktail umbrellas made out of Kleenex and bobby pins; cocktail stirrers ne unfurled paperclips...those festive stripey kinds, preferably; cocktail napkins made out all those big sticky notes you write your grocery list on. I got some of those Sun Chips that now come in profoundly biodegradable packages. And I called all my eco-conscious friends and asked them to bring something "sustainable" to my party.

Here's why Earth Day is for suckaz. Worst party I ever had. All that stuff like disintigrated in people's hands and they were all, "Ew." The food tasted like packing popcorn. And the music just bit. I mean, what do you play at an Earth Day party that will make people unbutton their shirts to their underpants and dance dirty? Clearly I have no idea. No one danced and people just looked bummed about how screwed up the earth is. Oh, sorry, the Earth is.

So as soon as someone started a whisper rumor that global warming was a hoax, my guests got pissy and, you know, left. And then I was stuck with all those sustainable snax I had to package up in plastic containers that'll poison my family tomorrow in the microwave. But we'll eat 'em, dammit, because sustainable snax are a terrible thing to waste.

The worst part of my Earth Day was when my son told me I was his primary source of environmental news. And then he made those teenage-cruel quotation marks with his fingers, meaning, I guess, I'm NOT his primary source of environmental news. That really hurt my feelings.

Anyway, for me—which is pretty much what this is all about in the auto-environmentalism movement—today was a total bust. No good grub, no grinding, no buzz, my kid meanly humoring me, and no one saying inappropriate stuff they ask me the next day to help them "reposition." For me, a party ain't great unless I'm horrified by a few things that happened, not the least one or two of my own things. This time, je ne regrette rien. See what I mean? So sad.