The invitations went out through Facebook. They included a photo of my man in a morphsuit: full-body stretchy spandex, red and white stripes over the face, stars down the right arm, the American flag. This patriotic fellow was holding a sign that read, “Go for the Gold. Opening Ceremonies party at the Kelly House.”
On the night of the Olympic Games Party at the Kelly house, hubby Patrick donned the stretchy suit and greeted our guests, whose reactions ranged from stunned silence to high fives and cries of “Epic!” (USA Flag Morphsuit, $33.26 for a large on Amazon).
I channeled the first Olympiad and put on a cream Grecian gown and a gold laurel wreath (California Costumes’ Olympic Goddess costume, $27.34 on Amazon). Work pal James showed up in a USA flag beanie ($10.84 on Amazon) and socks in red, white, and blue (Stance brand’s the Fourth Sock, $12.99 for a large pair on Amazon). Dan arrived in his Patriotic Mohawk Wig ($12.99 on Amazon). He won a gold medal for best head-cover (gold medal with ribbon, $1.49 at Party City).
Patrick’s iPhone, plugged in to our stereo, blasted a compilation of national anthems and theme songs from the Olympics that my husband had found on Amazon (Complete Music of the Olympics Games, $8.99). Our guests stood in groups flipping through books on Olympics past that I had placed around the room, such as The Treasures of the Olympic Winter Games ($35.26 on Amazon) and Igniting the Flame: America’s First Olympic Team ($19.23 on Amazon), which tells how a team of only 14 athletes brought back 11 gold medals from the first modern Olympiad in Greece, 1896.
Hanging from our chandelier were international flags (International Flag Hanging Swirl Decorations, $3.99 for a five-count at Party City).
Bouncing around our ceiling were Patriotic Star Balloons from Dollar Tree ($1 each).
Above the flat screen was draped a 23-foot-long banner of different flags of the countries of the world ($4.99 at Party City).
Over in the main party room, the flat screen blared the opening ceremony from Sochi. “Who picks the outfits for our American athletes to wear?” I groaned.
“Can anyone say, ‘patchwork quilt’?” answered friend Bernice.
“Maybe they’re going for, ‘It’s so bad it’s good,’” added Patrick.
“It’s so bad, it’s bad,” stated pal John, “which might be said about a lot of outfits,” he added, nodding at my Morph Man.
“It may be bad,” Morph Man said through the Spandex, “but I make it look good.”
With that, he danced and flexed in front of the TV screen until forced away by flying popcorn and a chorus of playful jeers. “You won’t be jeering when you taste my Olympic cocktails,” he said.
After 20 minutes of banging about in the kitchen, he emerged with a tray full of martini glasses. “I give you the Triple Twist Wipeout,” he proclaimed, “named after all the wipeouts in the ice-skating competition, and for what it will do to you if you’re not careful. It’s three shots of vodka; three types of juice — cranberry, orange, and grapefruit — and a twist of lemon.”
“Let the wipeouts commence,” jested John.
“Russian vodka would have been more appropriate for this Olympics,” Patrick said as he handed out the deadly drinks. “But we find the best buy on vodka is Monopolowa at Trader Joe’s [$9.99 for one liter]. But it’s from Austria, which is always a big player in the Winter Olympics.”
Among the plates of internationally flagged ($1.99 for a 50-count at Party City) hors d’oeuvres sat a creation of mine that I named “The Flying Tomato” after San Diego’s own Olympic hero, Shaun White. I made mini caprese salads — mozzarella chunk, basil leaf, cherry tomato — mounted kebab-like on gold-medal toothpicks I found at Pickonus.com (100-count, gold disk–tipped, 4 3/4-inch toothpicks, $5). They were a hit.
As the Olympic flag was hoisted, we watched and critiqued, ate, and played a drinking game. At every mention of the phrase “medal count” from the broadcast, everyone took a swig.
“Team USA has a record number of athletes at Sochi,” said friend Jan. “Biggest delegation ever with 230 athletes.”
“Should make for a high medal count,” laughed a nearly wiped out Morph Man.