Things have been rather sluggish around here. I'll blame it on the weather.

I admit, there's been a lot of alcohol coursing through my veins- these Singapore Slings, they're making a comeback that's bound to be as strong as flared jeans and leg warmers... if not stronger. The 70's are raging and we seem to be embracing it.

So as I sat wondering about the 70's it made me start thinking about key parties. What a delicious idea; to go to a party with your spouse, throw your keys in a bowl, and at the end of the night dive into that bowl and leave with the person whose car keys you pick out. Now, I'm jealous as hell, I don't think I'd allow another woman to touch my husband let alone fuck him... but I'm not quite as strict when it comes to myself. I'm a hypocrite and these days, who isn't? We all have our rules but I won't go there, it requires a little bit more alcohol and looser lips.

So these key parties... sexy. It's something you could truly do as a couple and I'm sure in my mothers time there was pot or coke involved. Now, I'm all for stimulants, uppers, downers- I live in the South in a rather nice neighborhood so I know these soccer moms pop whatever they can, whenever they can. I haven't smoked a joint in a years, I could tell you to the day. The thought of being high and having sex with a stranger or close friend (depending upon who invited us to the party) is thrilling. Things have been so boring around here, that sort of pick-me-up could do wonders for my professional and personal life. Crazy sex with a random person, all by luck or fate, or whatever the fuck you want to call it- divined by picking their keys out of a bowl. Inspired. Throw in an insane amount of alcohol, perhaps a joint or two, a water bed, and you've just recreated one of the best decades in pop culture history.

It's not so much about being swingers, it's just that for ONE NIGHT and one night only (if you so choose) you get to be. You get to party then go back to your suburban lives the moment the sun comes up. Come home whenever and tip the babysitter extra for her (or his, in this day) troubles. The past is the past for good reasons indeed and I want to take a note out of my history book and discover a Key Party for myself. My husband and I are a little more fascinating than I might present us as. Perhaps I could convince him that we should host one? That might break me out of this rut and allow my true persona to shine through.