The Art of the Self-Invite

I have no qualms about inviting myself to your party. Let’s be honest, you simply forgot to check my name when you were sorting through your contact list. No big deal. I could see how that happened. I’m not offended. I’ll still show up with a beverage or snack item.

If any of the following sound reminiscent or have happened to you, fret not:

  • Your coworkers come in on Monday and talk about their scurrilous weekend together
  • Your Facebook feed is dominated by parties you weren’t invited to
  • Perhaps you Photoshop yourself into group shots

If you often find yourself on the uninvited list (also known as the shit list), there’s a simple solution. All you need is the address. Yes, there will be some uncomfortable moments. You may get some doors closed in your face–think of the back door as a second opportunity. If you’ve brought some beer or medium-tier fermented beverage, the collective thirst of the group will outweigh their disdain for you. Initially it might be wise to avoid glass containers. Alcohol is to a party what beads and shells were to the Native Americans. (As an aside, the Native Americans were the first group to truly know the joys of gentrification.)

In no time you’ll be known as “that guy who shows up.” Use Twitter and social networks as your tools. Don’t think of it as stalking. As soon as they hit publish, it’s public information. I’m not sure about the legality of this, but it sounds solid.

Once you’ve mastered this, the brass ring is the wedding invite. Instead of booze, you’ll want to bring a toaster or kitchen appliance. Don’t over do it and get a Kitchen-Aid, then you’ll get invited to everyone’s wedding and go broke. I will take this opportunity to announce that should you be in the greater metropolitan Chicago area, I may be able to lend my services, but I will need a formal invite.


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