It’s His Tailgate Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

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My husband is hosting a tailgate party tomorrow for a group of his co-workers, or co-drinkers as the case may be.

Hey. I’m cool. I’m down with football and kicking home runs or whatever they do. My problem is that this tailgate will be held in my home.

So, first, there’s the whole “how do you have a tailgate in a home” question. Doesn’t the very term, tailgate, presuppose some sort of vehicle being involved? Well, it turns out, when you have a bunch of guys who are too cheap to buy tickets, you can have a tailgate anywhere. (In fact, with this bunch, it’s best to keep heavy equipment, trucks, cars or even remote control vehicles as FAR away as possible.)

Then there’s the whole fact that my place of business is the 50 yard line in this scenario. I’ll have a bunch of beet-addled, chip-laden men screaming obscenities as I try to go about my business. And, these guys are corporate lifers. When they come over on a Saturday, it’s a little like being interviewed by space aliens. They have no idea that a person can engage in productive behavior during the weekend. (Unless you consider arguing about passing percentages and rushing statistics to be an example of productivity.)

So, my question, how do I keep my business space and not lose my family space?

And yes, I did consider spiking their dip with some mild sedatives. My lawyer friend tells me there are some regulations of some type against such an action.

Always the complications, huh?

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