Let’s be an 80s dinner party!

I'm the dip in the hollowed out loaf of sourdough bread.

I'm sundried tomato - I will be added to the salad, or maybe a pasta dish.

I'm the newly acquired Nagel print. I'm proudly positioned on the wall of the dining/sitting room between a floor lamp and a glass brick wall.

I'm the guest rolling his eyes and whispering about the horrible Chicken Kiev. Everybody raved about my Chicken Marbella last month. And what is this, Pfaltzgraff?

LOL...I miss chicken Kiev

I’m the spinach salad.

I’m the shallow dish filled with Equal and Sweet and Low

I'm the line of coke on the mirrored table top waiting to be snorted

I’m the pesto sauce that will be added to the pasta with sundried tomatoes in r2.

I'm the artichoke hearts and "vinaigrette" in our hostess's "lite pasta salad."

Soooo elegant!

I'm the tortilla chips and fresh salsa with jalapeño and cilantro

I'm the spinach artichoke dip

I'm the California Chardonay

^Chardonnay

I'm the heady mixture of Giorgio, hair mousse, and marijuana, and I'm a little nauseating.

But I look and feel so pretty.

^She does look pretty.

I'm the absence of tattoos and nose rings.

I’m the knorrs sour cream and onion dip that goes into bread bowl that I will swear is homemade

I’m the Riunite.. on ice

I’m the Jean Nate layered with Obsession perfume

I'm the anti-social twenty something chain smoking away at the dinner table. I can't have the pudding, I'm hypoglycemic.

I’m the immense Paul Prudomme, tempting you with my tasty jambalaya and hush puppies.

I’m the exotic sorbet dessert

I’m the sauce splattered pages of the Silver Palette Cookbook

I'm the rich red paint on the dining room walls.

Don't you mean faux paint?

I'll be the lemon tart social Xray

I'm the raspberry sauce in the brie, the raspberry vinaigrette, and the raspberry tart.

I'm everyone talking to each other's faces instead of checking social media in our laps.

I'm Deb, the feisty neighbor who couldn't be bothered changing outfits (or showering) after Jazzercize class.

And being a health nut, I would highly recommend a no-fat, high carb diet to anyone!

I’m the death by chocolate cake that will taunt Deb all night

R28, I'm Babe Paley, and I'm already dead for at least 2 years before this party even started.

But I do agree about the face thingie.

We're members of Deb's gym and we freakin' hate her too.

I'm the Jheri curl stains left behind on the back of the couch by the one black couple invited to the party.

I'm Brenda, your hostess. And yes, I like to dress for dinner.

Welcome to my home.

I'm the white leather sofa.

I'm Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers.

I’m Yvonne and I’ll be there! Woohoo!

R24. Totally red and black decor. Conrans, baby. It’s CONRANS.

R31 Babe was always ahead of her time.

I’m copies of Less than Zero, Bright Lights, Big City, and Mysteries of Pittsburgh sitting on the book shelf.

I'm the Memphis dining table and Michael Graves tea kettle.

I'm the veal sweetbreads.

I'm the closeted homosexual discussing the recent Mapplethorpe exhibition in graphic detail to sound out tonight's potential sex partners.

I’m the Entenmenns crumb cake and the angel food cake for those watching their cholesterol

I’m the stock brokers drinking double martinis all night long. There is no way my career will ever tank

I’m the clove cigarette smoked by the “artsy” guy

I’m the first college graduate in my family with a halfway decent lower management job invited by the host, who’s irritated with me because I keep looking out the window checking on my leased Nissan Maxima SE. I mean, this neighborhood IS in transition...

I'm a closeted, Reagan-loving, blame-the-gays-for-AIDS neighbor who will tell the rest of the neighbors that OP is a "fag". I will be invited in for a glass of wine, but will tell the revelers that my girlfriend is waiting for me to meet her at the restaurant on the next block. I will be dead of AIDS in three years. I just hated myself.

Im the olfactory battle going on between Halston Z-14, Lagerfeld, Paco Rabonne, and Polo.

I’m the bowl of M and Ms with the red ones. People empty me long before the Reese’s Pieces. We’re conveniently next to the ash trays our host left out. I’m down to half a pack a day!

I’m the octagonal glasses. My owner says I’m Luminarc Octime but I’m really Walmart 8 for $4.

I match the octagonal smoked glass dining table.

Oh , and Drakkar Noir!!!!!

Dinner Party! Dinner Party!

I’m the Erte print on the wall, next to the neon smiley lips.

Don't forget the Felix The Cat clock with the second hand tail.

I'm teal, deep coral, black and white color palette with some neon accents. I'm EVERYWHERE!!

I am the olive oil. I AM ** E-X-T-R-A V-I-R-G-I-N ** unlike Madonna.

I'm Thursday night and no one is coming to your party because LA Law is on.

I’m Bruce, the gay from next door who didn’t show up because he came down with the “flu”.

I'm the angel hair pasta.

I'm the cigarettes

I’m the susurration of shoulder pads squirming to be comfortable round the dining table.

I'm that new show with Bea Arthur and her sidekick from Maude that got good reviews. I think that Betty White is in it too. Let's give it a try. It might be decent.

I'm Park Slope and 75% of your Manhattan friends will decline.

I'm Anita Baker's "Rapture" and I have replaced Sade from OP's post as the official dinner party soundtrack.

[post redacted because linking to dailymail.co.uk clearly indicates that the poster is either a troll or an idiot (probably both, honestly.) Our advice is that you just ignore this poster but whatever you do, don't click on any link to this putrid rag.]

I’m the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack that will come out after 8pm

Later we will listen to the debut album of Whitney Houston. Did you know she was a model in Seventeen magazine?

I'm brown label Veuve Clicquot. WHET me?

I’m the cans of French’s Potato Sticks and Planters Cheese Balls sitting in fake crystal holders

I’m the baked potatoes served at every dinner party in the 80s.

I brought some Lancer’s Vin Rose because the host knows nothing about wine!

Sorry, off topic. But I hate seeing pics of gorgeous Whitney in her youth (R68). She was pure potential then. Look at her gazing out of that photo. She had no idea what the future held for her---the incredible high... and the sad decline.

I'm the black leather sofas with the pillow backs and arms. My owner just got rid of me last year, 30 years later, because back in the day things were made right and with quality materials.

Some of this stuff like teh leather sofa and spinach salad belong in the late 70s. The 80s were about pesto and nouvelle American cuisine. Chocolate chunk cookies, Tahini The discovery of falafel.

I’m the Basia cassette playing in the background. When “Time and Tide” comes on all the queens and lone fag hag sing along.

I’m the black squid ink pasta. Food will never be this cutting edge.

I'm the stark, cold and specific look for dining this year. Bare floors, a lovely Durceau racetrack table,( for very small plates, very small eaters) a Gustav Stickley rocker in the corner and perhaps a simple David Salle above it. I'm going with a very MINIMALIST look this year and would like to invite you over for a very quiet, subdued party.

I'm the entire menu based on recipes from a subscription to Bon Appetit.

I'm Crystal Lite lemonade in fancy glasses. I'm the earrings that the cute guys are wearing in one ear and that the older guests are staring at but too polite to ask about. I'm designer stonewashed jeans. I'm also hot-pink lipstick and hot-pink nail polish and Ocean Pacific t-shirts in pastel. And I'm heavily suntanned skin before people were worried about skin cancer.

Dark chocolate cake with raspberry coulis.

"Aioli" sauce (anything mixed with mayonnaise).

NO WHAMMIES NO WHAMMIES NO WHAMMIES STOP

I'm the flaming sambuca coffee bean shots served on a Marimekko tray, with lights dimmed for maximum effect.

I'm the Sony CDP-101. I am the very first consumer compact disc player on the market and I cost about $1,000.

I'll be playing the very first commercially-released CD on the market, Billy Joel's "52nd Street", so stick around.

You won't hear a single "tick" nor "pop"!!!

This lamp.

I’m The Visitor by ABBA, the very first commercial CD ever produced. R87 has partaken of a line too many from the polished surface of the infinity mirror and fried his brain.

An Italian espresso machine. European and Egyptian cigarettes. Too cool for school!

I’m the black halogen torchiere lamp. I will eventually be responsible for causing many fires and burning down houses, prompting a redesign to cover my open halogen bulb, which reaches up to 500 degrees.

I’m getting some stink on my pinky in the bathroom.

I'm Trivial Pursuit, the original Genus edition.

I'm Frusen Glädjé.

I'm me at 30 trying to come to terms with a medium rare lamb chop, while sitting across the table is the guy who keeps insisting that Syd Straw is the next Joni Mitchell

I'm a kiwi fruit, your dessert. I'll be left uneaten.

I’m the star fruit, sitting beside r96 wishing I had any flavor at all.

I'm the men's underwear, which have similar cuts and colors as the women's underwear.

I'm the raspberry vinaigrette that goes on every salad at every dinner party in every city from 1985 to 1990.

God, I wanted to like raspberry vinegar. It just tastes like sweet raspberry juice.

I am the hostess's wildy asymmetrical haircut, which just makes her look confused.

I am also this informative reference.

I am the sleeves at R102 that could totally be used to pump choux pastry. Just what a busy '80s businesswoman needs.

I’m the gay guest, who leaves at 8:30 to watch the new “Golden Girls” episode.

(It’s true....he left my party.)

I’m the children left with the babysitter because this was an era when parents didn’t drag their kids EVERYWHERE with them.

[quote]I’m the pesto sauce

Just say "pesto." "Sauce" is implied.

Also, chicken kiev was more popular in the '60s. It was kind of old hat by the '80s.

I’m Lyme Disease and Chronic Fatigue, all the fraus think they have me!

I'm Patrick Nagel, and my artwork is hanging in the living room. I died at 38 in 1984 after an "aereobathon" session: the most 80s death ever.

I’m the Water Table Crackers that are set out with the large round of French Camembert. Brie is so last year.

R76. Ha ha ha. I’m wiping a tear from my eye. Even back then, stuff was crap. We bought an 8” leather sofa with the giant pillow backs from an upscale place. I made decent money for the time, but it was a whole damn paycheck, but the boyfriend wanted it so badly and I could never tell him no.

Super hot friends with a truck helped his bring that thing home and wrestled it up the elevator. Years later, when the male cat destroyed it in the way males do, the leather peeled away. The frame was completely made of plastic. Very heavy, very thick plastic. It’s exactly the construction you’d get from Wayfair today but at 5 times the price.

8’ not 8”. My stars.

I’m the Win Lose or Draw game for my friends that cannot understand Genius Trivial Pursuit

R106 maybe I should have said chicken divan or chicken cordon blue? I thought chicken Kiev was still a thing in the 80s

R109 I’m the Melba crackers that I wish they had instead

R110 that was a really sweet story. I hope your relationship lasted longer than the couch

I’m the gays discussing the beautiful twink actor Rupert Graves, who has a delightful skinnydipping scene in A Room with a View.

R104 That is hysterical

R110, maybe you typed 8" instead of 8' because you were thinking of your boy friend?

And your correction at R111 forestalled the question of whether or not treated of you are Ken and GI Joe.

You had to lay out the Carr's Water crackers on a mini butcher block tray with some grapes and a ring of brie.

The crackers were not good but a buttery brie and grapes - why not still today.

R104 I'm the gay guest walking out the door with everyone else @ 1130pm thinking its just a TAD bit early to hit the bars

I'm the cable box.

[quote]an "aereobathon" session: the most 80s death ever.

Really?

I’m the concerned dinner conversation about the strange gay cancer that they saw on the news the other night. I mean, it’s just a handful of gay gays in San Francisco, but still.

[QUote][R106] maybe I should have said chicken divan or chicken cordon blue? I thought chicken Kiev was still a thing in the 80s

Also from way back when. Chicken Marbella from Silver Palate Cookbook is THE cliched '80s dinner party chicken dish.

I’m the barely used copy of “The Enchanted Broccoli Forest”, because you never know when one of the guests will announce he is vegetarian the day before the dinner party.

I'm the Connie Francis comeback that we'll all be talking about whilst eating our chicken.

Yes, R125. I pointed that out in the fourth post of the thread.

I’m the tasteful stack of Architectural Digests and Vanity Fairs on the coffee table.

Then bitch at the chicken divan queen, r128, instead of at someone who supports you.

You "see" queens will be the death of Datalounge.

I'm the National Enquirer and Star magazines in the bathroom.

I’m the Cyndi Lauper vs Madonna debate.

I’m the “Official Preppy Handbook” on the bookshelf

I'm Glenn Frey crooning in the background. I belong to the city.

I’m the Dep Hair gel and Stiff Stuff hairspray

R132 That’s true! Those were some seriously funny fights. The Elder Queens of the era were perplexed at Madonna. “She can’t sing!” Really, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. But, MTV.

R132 Both were technically correct as they’re still famous today. This also reminds me of a throwaway joke from everyone hates Chris Where he says Billy Ocean would overtake Michael Jackson

I’m Hall and Oates, getting several mortgages paid as everyone plays our records.

I’m the Soloflex, sitting unused in the spare bedroom. I will never look like Scott Madsen.

I’m the thrill felt by removing the acetate from the brand new Paul Simon album, Graceland. I may be a yuppie asshole but I love that he sings with those African villagers! I feel like such a globalist and I can’t wait to spin this. Move over Higher Love by Steve Winwood. Into the sleeve you go!

I'm the coat rack holding all the Members Only jackets.

cds

I'm the goat cheese it took you bitches 143 replies to be mentioned. People aren't really sure if they like it, but they pretend to. I'm also the black dinnerware.

Arcoroc Octime - but only in Germany. Goes well with Nagel. The octagon flutes! Its more late 70's early 80's.

I'm the "alternative" lesbian couple your friend who works in the salon invited. One of us wears a paisley-print men's shirt with a bolero tie, the other wears cut-off denim shorts with cowboy boots and an oversize Peter Murphy tour t-shirt. We both have brunette Robert Smith hair. We never smile and the only conversation we offer at dinner is to announce we're vegetarian. After dinner we hang out on the porch smoking clove cigarettes.

Memphis chair, lamp in the living room. Accents around the dining table.

Starck lamp

I'm the cigarettes that are being smoked right at the table. Going outside to smoke? Nobody's ever even heard of that.

r150, 1986 is the year I first noticed people smoking on the sidewalks in winter (in DC).

We are the maximum 15 dollars that will be spent at the Boy Bar after the dinner.

I'm the discussion of Madonna's latest video. She's so outrageous and controversial!

I read in the Enquirer that Lucille Ball had another stroke. Jesus, I hope she'll be ok.

We are Brooke Astor's furs. We exist to be dragged across marble entryways and corridors.

We are the Social X-rays. We will give you a FRIGHT the first time you see up up close.

I'm a blindingly gorgeous Glorious Foods caterwaiter with a hot 8 inch cock. I'm not even a whore, I'm a novelist and fuck guys my own age.

I'm a young, tender, pretty art history Yale grad from Baton Rouge and I'm a master recreator of Dutch floral painting bouquets, at Robert Isabell. I'll be dead before 1990.

HEL-lo, everybody!

We're the fun nice lesbians in pre-grunge flannel shirts who taught us nerd gays how to dance after the BBQ!

R160 That never happened, and never will.

I just bought an equalizer for my stereo. Supposed to be the hottest thing. Let’s play Peter Gabriel for the 100th time!

For r78:

R161. Yes it did, and some of us Gays taught Lesbians to dance. It was a wonderfully closer time.

Did someone already bring the Riunite?

Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay (ew) and Cabernet Sauvignon were the wines of the 80s. Riunite (ew) was 70s

I’m this scintillating comment heard ‘cross the table by my friend Marie- “Restaurants are to people in the 80's what theatres were to people in the 60's. I read it in a magazine.”

Off-topic, but I always thought that was the stupidest line Nora Ephron ever wrote.

^Nora Ephron only wrote stupid lines. She was a hack

R165 meet R18. Fun to drink when you’re watching Love Connection

I’m Warren and Terrence - but we are going to be late because we finally scored tickets to see Cats!!!!

Don’t forget the Vienetta dessert!

Me: I don't get it. Black or "blackened"?

I am the mexican help. Everyone senses my hostility for My Lady except she herself. Actually she adores me and loves to call herself a gringo whenever I'm around at a dinner party. As a result one of you will be blamed for a missing bottle of White Zinfandel that I stole.

R173 = not Paul Prudhomme

I’m the dramatic swoop of gelled bangs on the bored twinky model who accompanied the fat old photographer with the hope of advancing my career (not realizing I have no career)

I am wearing my best Chess King outfit. It’s my first dinner party. I’m hoping my date will also come to the Pet Shop Boys concert with me.

I'll be the Cheeze Wiz and the melted Velvet served in a bowl next to the chips.

"Cajun" seasonings on fish and chicken.

I'm DOc Martens and parachute pants worn with a t-shirt and leather vest. Nobody would dare call me a hipster.

I'll be a yuppie hearing the word "yuppie" for the first time and realizing with some embarrassment and a touch of pride that it refers to people like me. Soon, I'll be watching a new critically-acclaimed TV show called "Thirtysomething" that will define my generation.

I'm the Quaaludes waiting for you in the bathroom.

I'm the Eurythmics that gets played on the stereo after everybody's had a few drinks.

I'm the faux Tiffany lamp hanging above the dinner table.

I'm the crystal table lighter on the coffee table, which is next to the crystal ashtrays full of Benson & Hedges and Merit butts, which is next to the lines of cocaine and the rolled-up $100 bills.

[quote]I'm the Quaaludes

I thought those had ended by the '80s.

I didn’t see any qualludes after 1981.

The last time I saw a quaalude was 1974 IIRC. Maybe '76.

You should have stockpiled them, like me.

I'm the gay guests discussing Joan Collins' latest antics on "Dynasty."

I'm Mike from the Palm Springs gathering. I am aghast at the decor.

I'm the for looks only chocolate fountain at the end of the the death by chocolate dessert station. Alongside me sits a chocolate form of a torn paper lunch sack which serves as a cornucopia for the chocolate (with white chocolate diagonal stripes) dipped strawberries and chocolate dipped pretzels splayed about. Then rows of red wine goblets filled with chocolate and strawberry mousse zigzagging amongst 3 tier stands of petit fours and eclairs plus a pre-sliced flourless chocolate cake with gravy boats of raspberry sauce for the taking.

I’m Orange Roughy!

You’ll enjoy me topped with slivered almonds, accompanied by the White Zin the Mexican help didn’t swipe.

I’m the Long Island Iced Teas you won’t be having tonight, but simply must try next time you’re bar-hopping!

I’m the big mouth who spoils the end of Presumed Innocent (the wife did it!!!).

Jesus Christ. Who brought R178? Can someone take him back to his trailer park? I'd do it, but the baked brie is almost ready, and I've already had a few Fuzzy Navels.

I’m the dumb, young 20 something that drinks Brass Monkey straight just because he heard the song.

C;mere, R197. I'll make you a Slippery Nipple.

I'm the Laura Ashley towels in the half bath down the hall. I am the Laura Ashley comforter in the spare bedroom.

I am the guest who likes to wear outfits inspired by Miami Vice.

Architechtonica. Probably spelled wrong, but after 2 glasses of wine I don't give a fuck. Cheap wine, too.

I'm the posters who don't know their 70s from their 80s.

Chablis, anyone?

I am thinking of Filet Mignon for my next soiree. Perhaps both meat and cheese fondue or Beef Stroganoff, I am willing to share recipes if begged.

Fondue and Stroganoff are also both associated more with the 70s, if not even earlier. Come on, bitches!

Fondue: so '70s, didn't make it to the '80s.

Chablis I remember in the '60s, don't remember if it made it to the '80s or not.

I'm the sun-dried tomatoes in everything.

Yes, think sun dried tomatoes, goat cheese, pesto, the sad rise of skinless chicken breasts, fish en papillote, pasta salad...fucking pasta salad was everywhere...

[quote]pasta salad...fucking pasta salad was everywhere

Something from the '70s that lasted well into the '80s, and beyond.

was the pink vodka sauce with bowtie pasta 80s or 90s?

Vodka sauce was 90s early 00s r208

True r207 Sadly, I still see it everywhere, mostly confined to lazier delicatessens--at least it isn't the "must" it once was, but it is likely here to stay.

Marinated artichoke hearts. That was an 80s thing. Baked chicken breasts with marinated artichoke hearts. You could also find them lurking in the aforementioned ubiquitous pasta salad. Sometimes served at the same meal.

OMG, R194 = me and my friends at TGI Fridays in the summer of 1984.

I am the fritatta, the "healthier" (read, less flavorful and dried out) alternative to quiche. I, too, have overstayed my welcome thanks to the resurgence of low carb diets. You can be sure to find that other 80s staple, chicken apple sausage, inside of me.

I am the aggressively large dried flower arrangement in the living room.

I am the swordfish steaks. I am super high in mercury but no one knows that yet.

I am a guest sneering at the dried flower arrangement. I can afford fresh stems of Birds of Paradise which I place in a black statement vase next to my Nagel print.

Oh, we wanna come!

I'm the guest who mentions he just saw the movie Ishtar. Everyone is quiet after he asks if anyone else is planning to see it.

I’m the hosts teenage daughter watching 21 Jump St while on the phone to my closeted gay bff both of us sighing every time Johnny Depp appears on screen. I only wander into the dining room after my mother hisses “remember your manners” at me. I wait until the ad break however because I’m too mesmerised by Johnny to tear myself away.

R216 move your Birds of Paradise, bitch. I brought the Casablanca lilies.

[quote]I'm the posters who don't know their 70s from their 80s. —Fake Tiffany lamps and Quaaludes are 70s, kids.

You must not be from the midwest. Everyone I knew had those lamps well into the 80s.

Nouvelle cuisine.

Acid washed jeans.

we are the guests discussing the "1984" Apple Super Bowl commercial. We can't wait to get our hands on one of them "Macintosh"!!

What does "vintage" mean in that context, r221?

Secondhand r224.

So few are even playing this right. I am the...convection oven! It took about as much time as a regular oven but it was...convection!

I am the bow tie pasta in three colors!

Enjoy dying in a grease fire r220 You aren't even close. Birds of Paradise WERE the 80s

I am the flowers with which early Martha Stewart adopters, i.e., fans of ENTERTAINING, decorated food platters at their buffet dinners (of which I can find exactly 0 pictures on Google Images 30+ years on).

My '80s flower was the Rubrum Lily.

I was also fond of the Gerbera daisy. These may also have been popular in earlier decades. The 1980s is simply the decade when they came to my attention.

All daises were either 60's through 70s. Gerbera were 00's through today to a small extent.

1900s, r232?

I definitely used Gerberas through the '80s.

Hydrangeas were totaly 80s. I loathe Madonna, and I loathe hydrangeas

I’d have put hydrangeas as a cut flower more in the 00s than the 80s. 80s was cala lilies and banana leaves.

OK, I am as bad as anyone, forgetting to do the "I am" bit, instead of bitching about what food or x was on trend or not. So...I am the resurgence of chocolate chip cookies, cheesecake, and seltzer.

Yes. Calla lilies, r235. I had a roommate from 1982-84 who was addicted to them. We were more of a lemon leaves family, though.

[quote]Im the olfactory battle going on between Halston Z-14, Lagerfeld, Paco Rabonne, and Polo.

How dare you disrespect Grey Flannel like this?!

[quote]I'm also the black dinnerware.

This stuff was handy if you didn’t have a mirror available.

I’m the Amaretto that’s always there for after-dinner drink or inevitably served over Haagen-Dasz Vanilla ice cream.

[quote]I'm the olfactory battle going on between Halston Z-14, Lagerfeld, Paco Rabanne, and Polo.

I associate the last three with the '70s. I don't think [italic]anyone[/italic] wore Paco Rabanne in the '80s.

Yes, dear. I did wear Paco Rabanne in the 1980s. It was popular then, along with Gray Flannel, Anteaus, Canoe.

I'm the blonde bitch guest with a hot bod wearing Guess jeans, a white blouse and red leather pumps. I am fucking timeless in my eyes.

Poor you, r241, wearing Paco Rabanne AT ALL. I guarantee you, we have never gone home together.

I did like Anateus, however. Loved it, really, but not enough to give up my Eau Sauvage.

Grey Flannel depended, more than any cologne I've ever smelled, on the wearer. Some made it smell white trashy, if muscular (I remember licking it off someone's abs in the very early '80s). Others made it smell like, well, like they were wearing grey flannel.

"Say, has anybody read the latest Doonesbury?"

r244 No.

Doonesbury didn't go out of vogue for me until newspapers did, sometime after I got online, c.1995.

I'm the BLADERUNNER soundtrack our hostess will put on softly after dinner.

She didn't really like the movie (no one did) but a nephew in film school won't shut up about it and pushed the record on everyone for Christmas. A lot of the music's pretty if you skip the chase stuff, so here goes.

R243. I never played “Hump the Hostess” so you wouldn’t have been troubled. In the early 80s, I was a guest, usually to fill out the odd number problem so I behaved myself. I was the “german speaking American”. So I had to be better behaved than usual. Later, when I returned to the States, I was cohosting with my boyfriend so there still was non naughtiness.

R190. That could be a 2010s dinner party. At an 80s dinner party *straight* men were talking about what Joan Collins was up to.

R249. Relatively late 1980s, and potentially location specific, cher? In the early 1980s it was more “Dallas”. If you cared for that sort of thing. We were wondering what the heck Reagan was going to do about the economy. Studio 54 had closed, for good. The era of big dance clubs seemed to be ending.

In Germany, if you were an American, you got quizzed about Reagan’s intentions to put nuclear weapons in Germany. This was not popular. It was not at all popular.

I am the burnt champagne being served to guests.

I'm the pleated Mary McFadden dress our hostess decided was too dressy for an at home affair. Halfway through dinner as she's filling up, she'll regret that, because it's unstructured and super comfortable.

I'm the one guest who never liked M*A*S*H, and liked it even less as it became more preachy under Alda's influence. I have nothing to contribute as the group gets misty-eyed discussing the finale.

I don't remember M*A*S*H coming up at a single dinner party those days. And I dinner partied my way through the '80s.

We're the unspoken but clear hope that this party will be featured in Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, etc.

I'm the conversation about whether or not Donna Summer really made anti-gay remarks. Half the people at the table say she did, the other half say she didn't.

I'm the third half, r256, who didn't give a shit.

r257 will not be invited back

I am the yuppie wearing fashionable suspenders and wire-rimmed glasses. My hot date is wearing a bustier-and-blazer ensemble.

R245, as I recall the 80s were all about "Bloom County."

I'm the the mini Golden Champales, brought as a hostess gift

I'm the cut off Jordache jean shorts.

Jordache = 70s. We are never going to get this right are we?

R263, Jordache = 70's and early 80's dear. We got it right hon.

Does the "Jordache = '80s" set hail from Seattle?

Almost everything is going to straddle decades if we put it under a microscope, but let's TRY and keep to shit that screams 80s.

MARY!

No need to put it under the microscope cunt lord. Jordache is 80's.

I know Jordache was still a thing in 1980, among the less-well-dressed in Seattle (and perhaps the rest of the NW).

Beef Wellington with Caesar Salad. Martinis prior and Two Buck Chuck Red. I'll bring the Chuck!

70s or 80s, who comes to a dinner party in a pair of Jordache cutoffs?? Unless it was a possum cookout in Kentucky.

Where did Trader Joe's exist in the 1980s?

We wore Jordache in middle school and high school - 1983-88. Had to be very tight.

I cringe thinking about how my obvious my moose knuckle must have looked.

We are The Copa on East 60th and The World on East 2nd. Blair and Selma want to take a twirl at The Copa but Patrick is getting moist in anticipation of getting out of this party and off the UES. Blair is intrigued by the World but its just too far downtown. Patrick gives in and goes to the Copa and meets a gorgeous Harvard Lawyer who looks like like Bruce Willis, has a horse cock and a swanky apartment on CPW, and is miraculously the first openly gay Junior Partner at his white shoe firm.

I am the decorative plasma ball

I'm the gay guest who hates the hostess because tonite it's the final episode of Paper Dolls and i'm not sure my VHS will catch it.

I am the frozen yogurt

I'm the gelato

Where did some of you eat? And what did you wear?

Good point (271) I will delve into my trove of Oenology reference books for an update on the inception of Trader Joes and get back to you.

Plasma balls, Nagel prints, Jordache cutoffs, Champale....

This party isn't making the Penny Saver let alone Vanity Fair, R255.

From the bowels of my wine cellar research.

1967 The first Trader Joe's opened its doors in Pasadena, California. Still there today - same spot, same parking lot.

If you were into wine - especially California wines - Trader Joe's was the place to go. Still is. But back in the late 1960s, we sold every California wine there was.

Thank you, r281. I had never heard of TJ's until 1999 or so, when it appeared in Alexandria, VA (or was it Arlington?)

R280 I actually Loled

I'm the point in time when we've had enough booze that the conversation veers from "Is Ronald Reagan Jr. gay?" to "I would fuck his ass in front of Ron and Nancy"

Truthhfully, I hadn't heard of TJ's at that time either., I've been on WC since 2000, and now have one within walking distance. TBC isn't bad, but it is rather a disgrace to serve it to guests. Back to menu planning for the dinner party. I am going to check out the prices for Dungeness Crab for Crab Louis.

R285, what is WC?

I'm the ficus tree in the corner of the living room with a strand of 50 small lights running through my leaves. Which are dropping off.

I'm the guest who can't stop babbling about BRIDESHEAD REVISITED on PBS even though almost no one else has seen it.

I am the dress our hostess chose to wear, R252, this more overtly sexy black velvet and blue satin number (by Laura Ashley, of all people). It did look nice with her pearls (college graduation gift back in the day).

She wanted to show off her legs, but yes, I left her feeling exposed and bloated.

She will wear me just once again, to a New Years gathering, when she burns a hole in me with her Newport.menthol.

Two public wearings, and I cost close to a week's take-home pay. Oh well.

I am the tapered beige Cotler jacket that Kevin, the hostess' gay (but only kind of out) BFF is wearing. Kevin knows he looks totally hot and a little New Wave.

Her husband says Kevin's dressed like a waiter. Kevin thinks he's a Philistine.

But Kevin actually does make his living as a waiter, not an actor, so he's kind of right.

I'm the asshole 19 year old trying to convince anyone who will listen (no one is listening) that Duran Duran is going to be bigger than the Beatles.

The ladies think Boy George is cute then White Boy comes on and they start feeling confused.

I’m vodka sauce. There’s no reason for me to exist.

I'm the lines of coke on the bathroom sink.

I did not encounter vodka sauce until the early '00s.

I'm the yacht. I am not present, but I am talked about by my owner. As in "guys, never buy a yacht."

I'm edible pansies. I turn up nestled into the corner of the salad course. Half of me will go uneaten as everyone is unclear as to whether or not I trigger allergies.

I'm the boob job. Everyone acknowledges me, although not verbally.

Nobody had fucking food allergies in the 80s!

I'm the hideously over-restored Victorian mansion in some formerly low-rent neighborhood slowly crawling back into the upper middle-class. I have been decked out with colors unfit for the posteriors of baboons. I have a stairwell window the hosts claim is by Tiffany.

It isn't.

R29r, Vodka sauce was a brand new novelty in the 80s in Manhattan pasta restaurants, which still existed in the 80s (Pasta Presto, eg)

I’m dad getting up from the table, walking to the dining room door and yelling to the teenagers in the rumpus room “turn that garbage off” as the first few lines of Like a Virgin pour through the house and Madonna writhes around in the video being played on MTV. When I get back to the table, I look at the other dads and we smirk.

I'm the billiards table.

I’m the crack vials & homeless people the guests had to step over in the street on their way to the host’s NYC apartment, after being bugged for money on the subway 100 times by questionable “Vietnam War veterans.”

I'm the white Rolls Royce convertible. The other guests make fun of me when my owner isn't around but they're actually seething with jealousy.

I am uglier than 62 buckets of shit.

I’m the movie one of the guests saw last night where the line to get in the theater was literally around the block

(286) WC stands for West Coast! hint dungeness crab

I'm a Benetton rugby shirt worn with Girbaud jeans.

R306 It's better to say "the West Coast" than just "WC."

R308 is the official DL abbreviation regulator and all abbreviations need to be run past him.

I'm Woody Allen; you bitches all saw my latest, Hannah and Her Sisters, and loved it!

I am the Braun coffee maker and spin grinder on the faux butcher block pattern countertop. I make shitty coffee .

I’m the popped collars on the Lacoste polo shirts several of the men are wearing with Sperry Top Siders. Yes, to dinner. Oh, it’s alright. They’re wearing pastel cotton unstructured jackets. The hostess wants to cry.

r312, your hostess is a pill.

I’m the scent of Nair managaging to waft out underneath the nude pantyhose all the women are wearing.

(309) Ha, thanks for the support. I don't suppose they ever heard the old rat pack jokes - "Sammy, I won't be able to make lunch tomorrow at Toots Shor's. I got a meeting on the Coast. Lets reschedule - best Frank". when going west to east coast perhaps "I'm taking the red eye, I have a meeting in Manhattan. Our critic most likely has never been out of his hometown of Waupaca, WI.

I am the Glamorous Life record being played over and over. I make the women wearing fake fur dream of better days

Im the purple Z. Cavaricc suit that set my wearer back $500 and I went out of fashion the very second he took me off the hanger in the store. He wore me to the bar one time,and all the sniggers made him rip me off weeping while shoving me to the very back of the closet when he got home. I hung around for quite a few years and he cursed me every time he spotted me. Finally he donated me to a Goodwill,where I was bought by a young teen attending an 80s themed party.

That's right, R315. they called it "the Coast," not the abbreviation for "water closet."

I'm the feeling of glamorexia nervosa experienced on the day of the party. I will be cured by a trip to Charivari.

I'm a guest at the party in R93, insisting on pronouncing the names as "Genius" and "Trivial Pursuits."

Lol r320. There was always one.

I'm the loft in Lower Manhattan where the dinner party is being held. Jesus, this neighborhood is shit. Doesn't feel very safe. Why would anyone want to live in this no man's land? Sure it's dirt cheap, by Manhattan standards, but will this neighborhood ever take off? I can't wait to get back to the Upper West Side.

Gary is Denise’s new boyfriend. Gary is loud and obnoxious and we hate him on sight. After a few wines Gary asks if “Boy George” is male or female. The entire dinner party stare at him disbelief. “Well? He asks “which is it?” It’s pointed out to him the gender is in the title of BOY George’s name. Gary is oblivious to the disdain in the room and continues to shovel apricot chicken into his mouth while everyone else looks at poor desperate Denise with pity.

brilliant, last 5 or 10 posters.

I’m the long line of leased cars at the party . My leather seats smell like gel, mousse , and Marlboros

I’m the “conversation piece” illusion fountain. In two years time you’ll find me boxed up in the garage next to the plasma ball.

I'm "Man In Motion (Theme to St. Elmo's Fire)" and I'm far more popular than that shitty movie was.

I'm the discussion about Whitney Houston's possible lesbianism. She's never with any guys, but she's always with that female friend of hers. There are pictures of her from before she was famous, and she looked pretty dykey before the makeover.

I'm the subway ride taken to the party. I'm also taken by Lauren Hutton in Diane von Furstenberg dress going to a club in SoHo.

We are Gen Jones people royally pissed after seeing St Elmo's Fire and aghast that it is supposed to be about us. No one we know is like that, and we hope stupid Hollywood gets it right in the future. But there is no future, and the only other Gen Jones films made are documentaries that have already been released.

PS -- we drown our sorrows with beer and tricolor pasta salad

I'm Andy Warhol with a couple of Interview mag staffers, arriving 2 hours late. I hadn't realized it was a sitdown dinner. I take one look at the other guests and depart 10 minutes later, after a hasty conference about where to meet Grace Jones and her people.

I'm Tama Janowitz and I did arrive with Andy. Since it's unclear if he's going to pay for the dinner for me when we meet with Grace and her entourage, I will load up on canapés and so-so champagne. Of course, I'll get sick on the way to meet Grace. Andy will just comment: "I don't believe in eating shrimp after 7pm."

We're the guests at that party that Andy fled, who read of his death and try not to snicker.

"Hey Chris, tell the story about how you and Steve were at the Palladium last summer and did coke in the men's room with Michael J. Fox."

"This is a GREAT story!"

I'm latecomer Gloria Vanderbilt, surprised Andy left.

I was raised on Park Avenue but dress girls like whores in lycra woven jeans.

I'm Bret Easton Ellis, Jay McInerney, and every other Brat Pack-era literati (no, not you Tama. Sorry).

I insist on changing this entire thread to second person singular, because it's so much hipper and confrontational and in your face.

"You are an 80's dinner party."

"You are the dip in the hollowed out loaf of sourdough bread."

"You are sundried tomato - you will be added to the salad, or maybe a pasta dish."

Gives ya chills, doesn't it?

I’m the friend who’s into world music now after listening to Paul Simon’s Graceland and forces everyone to listen to his new zydeco cd.

I’m the new George Winston “December” CD the host plays constantly. He doesn’t know Rachmaninoff from Noodles Romanoff, so this pretentious wave of faux classical ideal for him.

I'm the fuzzy mustache guy who won't stop talking about how David Byrne has "evolved."

[quote]I’m Orange Roughy! You’ll enjoy me topped with slivered almonds, accompanied by the White Zin the Mexican help didn’t swipe.

LOL. That was the menu at the first dinner party I ever hosted, with my two roommates, in our first post-college apartment in 1987. I'm sure some quintessentially 80s salad and/or vegetable dish was involved, too.

I'm the frau with a crunchy perm and giant earrings wearing an oversized top with a wide belt and stirrup pants, sipping white zinfandel and reeking of Giorgio.

I am the black tableware. Food looks soooooo appetizing on me.

I'm tofu. Everybody is calling me the new frontier in health food. The next 30 years will prove otherwise.

r264 forget the Jordache vs Guess argument. Eurotrash in the 80s wore Girbaud jeans.

We're the six lonely cans of Diet Rite cola that will remain unopened throughout the evening.

But we are American in this scenario r345 (Ameritrash?)

I’m the asymmetrical and oversized Comme Des Garçons dress worn by the downtown gallery owner.

Diet Rite Cola???

We're the plastic Tupperware containers and Ziploc bags all the uneaten food is going into after everyone leaves. Hello, leftovers!

I’m Broccoli Cheese Soup. I’m accompanied by zucchini bread which - believe it or not - is NOT dessert.

That’s white chocolate raspberry cheesecake!

But first everyone gets their very own Cornish game hen.

[quote] Diet Rite Cola???

The thread is called "Let’s be an 80s dinner party!" OP said nothing about it being a nice one.

I’m the Keith Haring magic marker art in the entryway, Basquiat in the living room, and Mapplethorpe in the bedroom.

r351's menu is '70s food except for the white chocolate.

I'm a large plate of sushi served on a tray with Japanese calligraphy. No one but the Shogun-and-Kurosawa-obsessed smartass who brought it knows that it actually means "double penetration."

I’m the two week wait between blood draw and HIV test result. I’m haunting one of the guests with intermittent fear and dread.

I’m Karen Findlay’s most recent performance piece under discussion. What the fuck am I about?

I'm tarragon. I'm in almost everything.

R229 are you thinking of nasturium?

I'm the VHS copies of "Polyester" and "Cherry 2000" that gets popped in the machine at the same time as the obligatory round of the after dinner joint.

Oh god, I remember nasturtiums being on everything back then. Mixed in with lettuce, arranged on top of cakes, hanging out in the ever present pasta salad, placed on or in sandwiches. I didn't care much for the taste, (the stems had an odd flavor) but they were pretty.

I’m Paul, every year I throw a pre Christmas dinner party. I’d invited my ex in the hopes of rekindling the romance. Today he called asking if he could bring his new bf. I’ve spent the day intermittently sobbing, throwing the lemon chicken haphazardly into the oven and chugging the cooking sherry. The only cassette in the cassette player is Whams “last Christmas” which I’ve played over and over since noon. What could possibly go wrong tonight?

I’m the Vienetta and After Dinner Mints.

Lemon chicken! (skinless breasts of course) another 80s dish. Likely served with rice pilaf, broccoli crowns and those tortured inedible geriatric souls that were rebranded as "baby carrots". Well done r361

I’m the pesto.

You are way late r364. See also sun dried tomatoes and goat cheese.

I'm the Carbonara.

I'm the 25 year old display queen working in a 10 story old school department store. I have had sex in stock rooms, dressing rooms, rest rooms, storage rooms, my office, and out in my car in the parking lot. My partners were salesmen, customers, maintenance guys, and a pro football player in the store to sign autographs. I was a happy tramp.

And you mention all this at a dinner party in 1985 r367?

I'm the brie OP's sister wrapped in aluminum foil and put in the oven. It was a huge hit so now we're all doing it.

r368 Seriously. r367 brought to mind a friend who was a display queen IRL at the biggest department store in town in 1985. He didn't live through 1986.

I'm the plastic pill case which has a timer alarm function that beeps. I'm in Scott's left blazer pocket. I've been turned off for the evening. I guess I embarrass Scott. Well. I'm none too happy to be silenced like this. Silenced! Just because I equal death? Hmm! Someday--someday I will get my revenge! Just you wait! I will be integral to the plot of a broadway mega-musical. And EVERYONE will see me! EVERYONE will hear me! And EVERYONE will know about me at last! (villainous beeping laughter follows.)

I just got back from Bullocks and purchased a great suit from a new designer named Willi Smith. His Willi Wear striped suit with the ginormous shoulder pads will really accentuate my twinkle svelte figure. I will be the envy of all others at the soirée. Very cutting edge and I think the designer will have a long, long future!

I am the super teased up and Aussie Mega hair sprayed bangs on all the women under 38 yrs old

We're an American couple and I am CEO of Dupont USA and my wife is board chairman of a hospital in our neighborhood. We met at Princeton. We aren't comfortable leaving Lizzy at home as he just got rejected by Brown and is near suicidal. Now this Venezuelan couple (based in Paris Finance) and this French couple (luxury products) are blabbing on about how happy their spawn are at Brown. What is going on here? Lizzy said it's BROWN OR NOTHING, which is what I will be, if I don't go there! "No I will not SETTLE for Yale or Princeton, GROSS!"

I’m the watermelon smell of Paul Mitchell hair spray on the Cure-like hairdo of the New Wave inspired guest and the rosemary herbal scent from the Aveda Shine pomaded slickback hair of his date.

r374 Lizzy's a he? What's his real name, Lizard?

R352 explains it all.

I’m the vintage rhinestone brooch stolen from the back of my wearer’s mother’s jewelry cabinet. I am worn in place of a tie on a fully buttoned up navy blue cotton-rayon shirt—my wearer mistakenly thinks he’s fashionable.

I’m the multiple pleats in my wearers pants; I’m never slimming.

I'm the arterial-spray-red lipstick.

I’m angel food cake sweetened with fruit juice instead of sugar. I’m served with two raspberries and a sprig of mint, and I’m dry as a fart.

I’m the bread machine on every bride-to-be wedding registry.

Look everyone!

Pine nuts.

I'm Tori Amos and i feel inspired by this thread

Hi Tama at R333! I'm Marley Mantello, artiste extraordinaire!

Marley, you're nothing more than a Philistine Esthete!!

I'll show you, bitch!

I'm wigs. I fool no one.

NO ONE.

I'm high fructose corn syrup in its inauspicious and unwelcome debut. 1990s dinner parties will introduce my evil twin, soybean oil.

I'm the guy with an expensive Hi-fi Stereo VCR complaining about how since I work late Monday nights, I can't set my VCR to tape [italic]ALF[/italic] on NBC and then automatically switch to [italic]Newhart[/italic] on CBS without someone there to change the cable box. Friday it becomes even worse because my kids watch [italic]Webster[/italic] and [italic]Mr. Belvedere[/italic] on ABC and after those, the kids go to bed and my wife switches to CBS for [italic]Dallas[/italic] and [italic]Falcon Crest[/italic]. So if we want to go out as a family on Friday nights, we have to be back by 9:00 to change the cable box. And now I hear talk about a fourth television network! With all the new inventions they can come up with, when are they gonna find a way to record different shows on different channels when you're out of the house?

I’m th sounds of Tears For Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World being hummed by the cater waiter.

I’m the fingerless gloves being worn indoors.

This Memphis Group aesthetic will never get old or clichéd! It's great to have bright, cool neon colors everywhere after 10 years of dreary earth tones. And it's nice to see furniture with a sense of humor. But I must admit, all the hairspray fumes in the air are making me sick. I hope they don't get all over my macrobiotic cookies. I hear Marlo Thomas swears by them.

That crazy Memphis furniture is still crazy expensive. Can you believe it?

I am the scent of "Canoe" wafting about the room, having been splashed on the balls of all the male guests.

We're the Weight Watchers meals you'll be eating for a week or so after you make a pig of yourself at this party.

[quote]I’m the bread machine on every bride-to-be wedding registry.

And you get invited to dinner parties?

If you want to get invited to some really good dinner parties, then give me as a gift.

I'm the horribly scratchy, way to think wool pleated parachute pants by Alexander Julian worn with a colorful Jayne Barnes nubby padded shoulder sweater. My wearer is about to pass out because this outfit is made for northern Alaska, so he cools off with a More 120 menthol brown skinny cig.

Jhane.

I'm the babylax that was used to cut the coke. In five minutes everybody at this party is going to have an attack of THE SHITS.

Ah, such simpler times when all we had to worry about were coke shits. Now with fentanyl being cut into everything, in five minutes everybody at a party has a good chance of having an attack of THE DEATHS.

I am white Reeboks and Benetton sweaters worn by everyone.

I’m the guest who is a nurse at one of the city’s major hospitals, filling everyone in on the details of Andy Warhol’s death. I even know the name of the private duty nurse & will write down for anyone in case they ever need to hire a private duty nurse....they definitely don’t want HER. I also have the deets on Libby Zion’s demise, Jim Henson and what Mike Tyson did to Robin Givens. I also know of some pretty famous people who have AIDS, but I won’t tell so long as they’re alive. Except for Roy Cohn. Everybody needs to know that lying piece of shit is lying about his “liver cancer.”

I also talk about The Trump Princess yacht which I can see in the river from hospital windows. It ridiculously has men with automatic weapons patrolling on board. Trump obviously wants attention. He wants people to think he’s as rich as a Saudi Prince, but he’s not. He’s a greasy wannabe with a dog of a wife who both looks & sounds like Mrs Dracula. Still, there are people at the party who are enthralled with Trump. The rest of us roll our eyes and pop another bleu cheese & pine nut puff into our mouths.

R404 Great post, it deserves it's own spin-off thread!

I'm the gay male guest who is enraptured in R404's dishing of dirt until I remember that I myself am two degrees removed from Liberace by having had sex with someone who had sex with Scott Thorson. He also claimed to have had a walk-on part on [italic]Too Close For Comfort[/italic]and also to have had sex with Jim J. Bullock while Ted Knight was in the bathroom of the studio's men's dressing room. I never watched the show so I can't confirm or deny, but I haven't seen or heard from him since. Miraculously, I am still HIV-negative.

I’m wearing my Cosby sweater.

I wore it better. And first.

I'm the bemused laughter between sips of mid-priced California sparkling wine coolers about why anyone would care about the difference between New Coke, Old Coke, and Pepsi when it's all just brown sugar water anyway.

I’m the chunky oversized sweater dress, worn with black leggings. Always with the cellophaned bleach blond hair pulled up into topsy turvy hairpiece or a scrunchy in pastel colors that match my lipstick and shoes and anklewarmers!

I’m the RC Cola, Tab , and Diet Rite next to the angel food cake for the health nuts.

One more mention of the Memphis Group furniture, on loan from the set of Ruthless People.

I am the spiked hair. The small town hair dresser says we have to go to the city to get that type of hair style.

I am the big hair on some of the women, with matching big earrings.

I am the fur coat. It was the '80's. Vulgar displays of in your face wealth is in style.

I am the hot pink jump suit with weird broad shoulders.

I’m the “attitude glasses,” fake specs I bought at Oak Tree in the mall. I think they make me look smarter.

[quote] I’m the chunky oversized sweater dress, worn with black leggings. Always with the cellophaned bleach blond hair pulled up into topsy turvy hairpiece or a scrunchy in pastel colors that match my lipstick and shoes and anklewarmers!

Slightly off topic, but I work with a woman who still dresses like that, while being in her 50s.

I'm the absence of grace, both prayer and poise, from this dinner table.

I'm the confused and/or deluded posters who seem to have interpreted "dinner party (at someone's house)" as "pre-opening board members' black-tie gala for the 1985 Whitney Biennial."

Whatever makes you happy.

R417. By the mid 80s, the level of pretense and ostentatiousness made the attempts inseperable - and equally insufferable.

You both have a point, R417 and R418. A lot of the entries are way out of their league, but then again consider the subject matter and venue.

I'm the Motown's Greatest Hits Volume II tape that has gotten more mileage than the winner of the Indy 500 since [italic]The Big Chill[/italic] came out.

People at 740 Park Avenue gotta eat, too, ya know.

I'm the cubic foot of Velveeta Shells & Cheese Aunt Verdita brought. I will prove more popular than the unopened bag of non-organic celery sticks just in case someone wanted healthy food.

I"m what R15 would look like is she was born 40 years later.

[quote]r371 someday I will get my revenge! Just you wait! I will be integral to the plot of a broadway mega-musical. And EVERYONE will see me! EVERYONE will hear me! And EVERYONE will know about me at last!

I’m the copy of Dianetics on the coffee table. Wasn’t he a science fiction writer? Next to me is a stack of People magazine , when they had Picks and Pans and actually called out shitty entertainment instead of endlessly promoting it.

I’m the magenta racing stripe blush that coordinates with all of the raspberry in this meal.

I'm gossip from Spy magazine, Liz Smith, Michael Musto,

I'm the startlingly BRIGHT, new wave makeup.

[quote]"If your makeup doesn't look halfway clownish, then you haven't accomplished the look yet."

For the less daring (ie, our Tasteful Friends)

I'm the Shy Di haircut worn by slightly older women who want to look young.

I'm really just a variation on the Soccer Mom "I Want to Speak to a Manager" cut.

I'm the bootleg copy of Purple Rain on Betamax. I was created by renting the movie from Tower Video and putting 2 VCRs together.

Purchase price would have been $99.99

Hi guys, I'm Tenax. I was in all your hair at all your parties.

We’re Marie & Andrew, we’re exhausted because we have a new baby, but we’re here ok so pass the wine. In case anyone’s interested (they’re not) we’ve named the baby Corey. We wanted a name that was both modern and timeless we explain to no one in particular. Plus those two Corey’s who are in every second movie are adorable and so wholesome, especially the good looking one, which bodes well for this little guy.

We're peanuts, peanuts, and more peanuts without a single allergy being triggered.

I'm the silver palette cookbook. all the snitty canapés being served come from me

I brought a few episodes of COSMOS with Carl Sagan on VHS! Anybody want to smoke a joint and watch them after dinner? They will BLOW YOUR MIND!

We're the mullets on every man under 40, since the whole point of one is "business in front, party in back." Our children will mock us for this.

[quote]Next to me is a stack of People magazine , when they had Picks and Pans and actually called out shitty entertainment instead of endlessly promoting it.

I'm the merger of Time Inc. and Warner Communications that created Time Warner. I won't be happening until the end of the decade along with a wave of other media mergers. Hope you don't mind if the Columbia torch lady turns Japanese.

[quote]I'm the silver palette cookbook. all the snitty canapés being served come from me

Didn't you post this already, or do we actually have two idiots who don't know it's "palate"?

I'm going off to the kitchen to do four more lines of coke off the counter and smoke a Merit, because the persnickety cunt aka r439 I'm seated next to is on my last fucking nerve.

I’m Perrier! I know I older than the 80s, but Yuppies LOVED drinking me.

I am Coreys soon to be born baby sister Jessica..I will be born 1984, sometime in September

That would probably make her older r442. The two Corey’s peaked around 1987.

Jim Palmer here. The sexy guys in the room are wearing this underwear but it's a naughty secret.

Looking forward to swapping my wife, Bambi, for Bob's wife. Might even get into some MMF action.

r438, is it "dinner," "party," or both that you fail to comprehend?

I’m the silver palate cookbook and I’m still better than r439

I'm a Moosewood cookbook and I have some good recipes.

R445: Have you ever heard of such a thing as historical context as to why People Magazine was less shitty then than now?

I'm the latest issue of OMNI magazine. I'm lying next to the paperback version of Dianetics and People magazine. My covers were created by talented graphics artists. Now any 6th grader with Photoshop can do them.

I’m mesquite chips, husband will toss me on the BBQ coals for some flavor!

I'm dramatically plated, way before one used plate as a verb.

We're men's suspenders that are wider than our ties.

Ummm.....maybe it's time for Paul to take Carrie home? She looks like she's done for the night, if you know what I mean.

I'm a well-worn copy of the Official Preppy Handbook. I inspired many a fashion choice seen at the party, including those by the hosts. If this party is in the UK, you can replace me with The Sloane Ranger Handbook.

I'm Mrs. Dash, the salt substitute that's supposed to help lower your blood pressure.

I’m an oat bran muffin. I’m not ‘technically’ a dessert item (although I’m basically fat and sugar, like cake) but the hostess is bringing me out anyway for the guests to nibble on with their cappuccino. I’m supposed to be healthy, but I’ll give most of them the shits.

I'm a baby dyke dinner guest clad in pleated bermuda shorts, deck shoes, and a polo shirt with the collar popped. If we're dining al fresco, I'll sport a tennis visor, too. Thirty-five years later, I'll be an elder lez who still wears the same exact outfits.

Oat bran!!! The carob of the 80s . Disgusting, fattening,and billed as health food.

I'm the Connie Francis record lying on the living room table that everyone nostalgicly remarks on. Once dinner starts I'll bring up the fact it's part of the clutter we cleaned up from my recently passed mother's house.

I’m the anorexic cunt

R406 gay guy here again. I'm getting my ass eaten out in the bathroom by the host's 19 year old son.

I’m the earrings on the hostess that are dangling onto her shoulder pads. They match her magenta blazer.

I’m the 5 Alive someone mistook for orange juice at the store. I’m ruining all the screwdrivers.

I’m the out of fashion caftan r462’s hostess wears after the party

I'm the Campari and soda that my friend drinks because Shannon on "As the World Turns" mentioned loving it. It will 'turn' out that Duncan is played by an actor whose distant cousin is another guy at the party who will become my best friend.

I'm carbs. Everyone thinks I'm healthy and red meat, eggs, and fat are the enemy. Hahaha, suckers. I'm the reason you will all be obese in 30 years.

I'm polyester. I'm still around, but I'm more refined and less tacky and toxic than I was in the 1970s.

I'm the Lite FM radio station playing in the background.

I am the host and I secretly joined AMWAY and the 7 people you've never met are also in AMWAY and before the night is over so will you be.

We're the "Made in the USA" tags on 75% of the clothes worn tonight. By the year 2000, I will dwindle to 50% at this same house's Y2K party. Now, I am barely 33%, and the last party in this house was celebrated by the owner's grandson on his 5th birthday.

Im the hostesses DIY hair dye job. The colour on the box was described as Golden Allure but it’s more like Straw Yellow. The other ladies at the dinner party have also dyed their hair the same shade of “blonde”. None of us mention during dinner that we did the colour ourselves, but we do compare our various hairdressers ability to perm hair. We will look back on these photos a decade from now and cringe

I'm the hole in the ozone layer. R471 is making me bigger and bigger.

I'm Dallas and Falcon Crest on tv in the Family Room. Guests keep slipping away to see how drunk Sue Ellen is and Angela ordering around Cho Li.

I’m the Campari and soda that the hostess is trying for the first time tonight because R465 is drinking it and it looks so red and delicious. She projectile spits the first sip into the sink, and I sit on the coffee table the rest of the evening looking forlorn but classy.

I’m ivana trump, and I’m the talk of the town!

We are the guests discussing Liquid Sky. We are hard core cinephiles, but what the fuck was that about??

I’m the aerobics class that the female attendees met in. The men have never met until tonight. Five years later one of these women will have swapped out husband for the man who just locked eyes with her over the pasta and baked potatoes.

r477 Pasta AND baked potatoes?

I am the grungy green Saxony wall to wall left over from the early 70's.

Yeah. Wall-to-wall has so much to do with dinner.

477 The aerobics queens in the 80s carbed up. I went to many dinner parties with pasta and baked potatoes. It is fine when you are young and doing aerobics and jogging every day. Although I have no ideas if everyone was keeping their dinner down.

I am the elegant mirrored wall made of mirrors. I am much classier than the kitchen wall paper, and I go well with the white leather couches. Everyone knows these couches are new and costs a month’s salary so no one sits on them. Half of this menu was made in the microwave, but I had my kids take the boxes right into the garbage cans outside. Half the guests don’t know each other and will stress eat the bacon burger dogs, inspired by the Cosby Show

I was blinded by the mirrors, please excuse the first sentence

I'm the gay guy wearing my new puffy shirt with BOLD polka dots from the trendy new Matinique store that just opened.

I'm Marc Jacobs, pudgy shop bottom. I may be a 6 but I certainly do not need to waste my time at this party filled with nobodies going no where.

I’m Marc Jacobs, not yet a tattooed methy pox mess.

I'm Brooke Shields and nothing comes between me and my Calvins! I shouldn't be up so late but nobody cares, apparently.

[quote] 477 The aerobics queens in the 80s carbed up. I went to many dinner parties with pasta and baked potatoes. It is fine when you are young and doing aerobics and jogging every day. Although I have no ideas if everyone was keeping their dinner down.

We weren't.

R487 I’m Drew. I should be attending elementary school but I’m snorting coke and going to night clubs every night. You look almost old enough to be my mom. You’ll be all right

I’m the Pepperidge Farm rolls . I am made almost entirely out of gluten yet every guest can eat me.

I'm lard, R490. They haven't replaced me with vegetable "oil" yet.

This is what I use for my hair. I bought it when I got my hair cut at Astor Place.

I’m the host’s annoying little daughter who wants to talk to the adults as if she’s an adult, too. That’s how her parents treat her and she’s quite the snobby little know-it-all. She already emits a totally phony persona and I dunno.....she’s just so obnoxious. Years later she had an iffy pregnancy with twins, but her husband wasn’t giving up on Baby Number 1, so she gave birth and then they were Elias & Matín.

r493 -- i don't get it

You won’t get it unless you live in an area served by Columbia Presbyterian Hospital,

I'm a 19-year-old debutante named Tiffany complaining about the preachiness and intellectual dishonesty of TV regarding drugs while snorting half a liter of Colombian booger sugar.

It comes in liquid form r496?

She's so high she confused liters with kelos, R497.

i was pretty sure that the annoying brat at R493 would end up being Miss Lens Dunham

kilos

I'm a fat joke whose target is either Elvis Presley, Nell Carter, Shelley Winters, Elizabeth Taylor, Dom DeLuise, John Candy, Divine, or, more recently, Oprah Winfrey. Little do we know that their numbers will be increasing in the decades to come despite (or more likely because of) the prevalence of low-fat this and diet that.

I’m pussy galore, I wasn’t invited per se

I’m Justine Bateman. I’m jealous that the gays are hot for my brother.

I am an idiot on DL who thinks that "let's be an 80s dinner party" means "post any detail about anything that you remember from the 1980s."

Lighten up, toots, at R504. Would a blow job help?

Beautiful, r505!

No, R504. The idiots are the ones making references to things that happened in the 1970s (the most likely time that [italic]M*A*S*H[/italic] would have come up as a subject of discussion) or the 1990s (when the term "soccer mom" came into use).

I am the oh-so-gourmet General Foods International instant coffee. Yes, I realize I was around in the 70s, but the 80s were my time to shine.

R508 which is why you are posting a commercial from 1997?

Gah! I watched the commercial. Mug cradling award!

Much like an 80s dinner party....

Can a DL thread have dregs ?

I'm the hostess' stack of [italic]Cosmopolitan[/italic] magazine.

My presence informs all that I am single, and definitely dtf.

I'm the Lalique candy dish full of macadamia nuts. I taste like salted soap. But you can't stop eating me. I've taken over your brain.

I'm the Siamese cat. If you are wondering if I want to be petted, the answer is no.

I'm the attempting-to-be-ethereal, but really just dismally depressing, pastel (??) color scheme.

Let's move into the kitchen...

Ha ha ... you thought you got away ...

If you pass out drunk, you'll wake up in THIS spare bedroom:

That fucking pastel trend in both clothes and furnishings really hung on for far too long.

But they're somehow OFFENSIVE pastels.

Which is hard to do ...

I'm the jelly shoes with glitter one guest is wearing. No one comments, because they can't decide if they're horrible, or kind of great.

I'm the glitter jellies all the other guests will run out and secretly buy the next day, hoping not to run into each other.

I am the Yamamoto suit that does not appreciate the flakes of rust and paint I am picking up from the hostess's Shabby Chic wrought iron garden furniture love seat. My exquisite details do, however, shine under the oversized busted old Queen Anne chandelier.

Im all the gays kicked out of the military after they discovered I was gay. Maybe in 10 years a progressive president will come along and let us serve legally if they promise not to ask and we promise not to tell.

I'm Sushi, the hottest new trendy food. So sophisticated that I eat raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed. Eventually I will become tired and tacky and attempt to rebrand myself as Poke.

Im the soft contact lenses that just became affordable to the average consumer for only 300 dollars. I have to be put in a special machine every night for an hour while it heats of the case and boils them in saline solution. If I get lost or torn, its another 300 dollars. It's not like these things are disposable.

I lost one of the contact lenses r525 speaks of in my NYE trick's bed the first day of 1981. I went back to wearing glasses as soon as I got home and have never looked back.

Contacts? Bleah.

You all went to the same dinner party r523? What did you bring as a hostess gift?

I'm Lauren Bacall, and i'm selling High Point coffee on the hostess' tv. My favorite time of day is night!

I'm star fruit purchased at Dean & Delucca. How marvelous that I exist! And I have no taste.

Star fruit has taste when you buy it in Malaysia or Thailand and places like that, the difference is amazing. Our 80s hostess wouldn’t know that though, it might as well be waxed fruit.

R515, is that a SUEDE COFFEETABLE?

Im not R515 but that pic is not a suede coffee table, its a faux painted stone look. Because real stone is expensive and "no one can tell, it looks so real!"

R529 meet r97

I'm the unavoidable magazine with smiling Princess Di on the cover.

I may not be in the dining room but look for me around the house and you will find me.

I'm the inevitable argument over Beta vs. VHS and why greater recording time eventually won out over slightly better picture quality.

I'm the fresh proliferation of serial killers that makes all the guests lock doors and windows when they get home. Some will even look under their beds.

I'm the Jane Fonda workout VHS tape left conspicuously on the end table in the family room.

I'm the daycare centre parents are yanking their children out of due to Stranger Danger and the Metallica albums parents are throwing out due to Satanic Panic.

[quote]I'm the Jane Fonda workout VHS tape left conspicuously on the end table in the family room.

I'm the host's six-year-old daughter's half-colored [italic]Punky Brewster[/italic] coloring book lying directly under it but over the latest issue of US Magazine. This family needs a sassy black maid who can sing.

I'm the Mrs. Fields cookies, bought at a stand and served with ice cream, because the hosts were too time-pressed to make a real dessert.

Jeez, how many times is that damn radio station gonna play "Never Gonna Give You Up"? If anyone still remembers that song in 30 years, I'll disco dance in a lime green polyester leisure suit. Come on man, this is a party; put on some rock 'n' roll!

I turned the cookies and ice cream at R540 into an impromptu Chipwich.

We're Keebler stealing the font from R542 (which they stole from [italic]Family Ties[/italic], who stole it from [italic]Last Tango in Paris[/italic]) for our design for Soft Batch Cookies.

A POEM

[italic]Those Keebler Elves

Can go fuck themselves[/italic]

I love you, R544

I'm that indentured darkie butler on the box of your side dish, Uncle Ben.

I won't be rebranded as the supposed CHAIRMAN of my product's company until 2007.

[quote] It is believed that the only reason “Uncle Ben” was called “Uncle” instead of “Mr. Ben” or the “King of Rice” is because white people during that time did not want to address blacks as “Sir” or “Mr.” Therefore, out of respect for his age, he was called Uncle.

[quote]Uncle Ben, who first appeared in ads in 1946, is being reborn as Ben, an accomplished businessman with an opulent office, a busy schedule, an extensive travel itinerary and a penchant for sharing what the company calls his “grains of wisdom” about rice and life. A crucial aspect of his biography remains the same, though: He has no last name.

That ad campaign was a disaster and he went back to being Uncle Ben.

I’m the fun electronic game, Simon, handed off to keep the hostess’ spawn in their bedrooms ti Stay away from the adult guests. I’m boring as fuck. I’m turned off after three games while the spawn look for porn hidden in the host’s army memorabilia.

[post redacted because independent.co.uk thinks that links to their ridiculous rag are a bad thing. Somebody might want to tell them how the internet works. Or not. We don't really care. They do suck though. Our advice is that you should not click on the link and whatever you do, don't read their truly terrible articles.]

R398 is my weapon of choice at this party

We're the Stingers that we thought were Shannon's favorite drinks. :(

^^ we were responding to R465.

I would have liked to attend Sue and Giles' 80s dinner party

I am 3 bottles of Dom Perignon that the host did not appreciate you ordering at his birthday dinner at Mr. Chow.

R490. FAIL. Celiac disease was identified more than100 years ago. Disgustingly, it was the Nazis who isolated the root cause as gluten based on their starvation of children.

Did someone say Shannon?R551

I’m the chocolate mouse in crystal glasses. Don’t confuse me with pudding.

I'm a Billy Joel concert on HBO playing in the background. We paid the extra $10 a month so the kids could watch [italic]Fraggle Rock[/italic], but it's worth it for all the movies and specials that also come with it.

[quote]I’m the chocolate mouse in crystal glasses.

Now THAT's fucking 80s!

Trash with class, that's the 1980s credo.

I meant Mousse... my iPhone does not compute 80s

Now this is a chocolate mouse:

I’m the chrome finish on all the female guests pink lipstick. I flatter no one but people will buy me until 1992, when all lips turn brown.

No, chocolate mouse is the dessert Rosemary Woodhouse ate just before her fateful encounter with you know who.

Did someone order Chocolate Mousse?

I'm the bottle of Blue Nun

good one ^

Blue Nun was Judy Garland's favorite swilling wine.

I’m the kid whose single mom couldn’t find a babysitter for.

The host was kind enough to allow me to hang out in the master bedroom, where I’m listening to Duran Duran and David Bowie albums, whilst drinking a bottle of VERY old wine that I found in the cellar, and popping some tiny little pills, called Valium.

My mother will come and check on me in a few hours, at which time, the party will end abruptly, because EMS personnel will be summoned to the home, and I will be whisked away to the ER, to have my stomach pumped.

Fortunately, I survive, and my mother takes me to the local mall, where she buys me 10 new, Chemin De Fer jeans in assorted colors, 5 new Dolphin shorts, and even throws in a pair of insanely expensive, yet exquisite, velvet, Sergio Valente’s, so that I don’t blab to my father, about my little trip to the ER.

I'm the guy who replaced their gourmet coffee with Folgers crystals. Let's see if anyone notices.

I'm the "very special" episode of Family Ties that so moved everyone at the party.

I slapped Alex first! Except I was sober.

I'm the guy who replaced their coke with meth. Let's see if anyone notices.

I’m the Diet Pepsi for the teetotalers. Also inspired by Michael J Fox. I’m the Coke that still has real sugar, so people are satisfied with just one glass.

[quote]I’m the chocolate mouse in crystal glasses. Don’t confuse me with pudding.

Nor shall I confuse you with the Christmas Mouse.

[quote]I'm the guy who replaced their gourmet coffee with Folgers crystals. Let's see if anyone notices.

For starters, how would the person making the coffee NOT notice?

We're nerve cells being short-circuited by the aspartame in R574.

I’m the desert with the fake scandavian name, like Frusengladje! It’s just sorbet. But nobody’s going to cough up big bucks for sorbet.

Frusen Gladje was ice cream, not sorbet. Their Pralines and Cream was the best ice cream of the '80s.

R578: On David Lean's deathbed, he said the one regret in his career was not shooting [italic]Lawrence[/italic] of Arabia in the Frusengladje desert.

I’m Whitney brand yogurt. I have an elegant presentation with a price to match. I make amazing parfaits for my dinner guests . Only years later does it come out that I have about 50 g of sugar in one cup and I vanish forever.

Whitney’s apples and raisins yogurt was amazing. Made with real cream and whole milk. Too delicious for this world. Replaced by aspertame and fake fruit

Kiss my ass!

I am a proud, unapologetic mustache worn on an otherwise bare male face. There must be 3 or more of us at this party.

Sometime in the mid/late-80s, I begin to disappear in great number. You will not see me or my stache-only brethren again on most reasonably stylish professional men for another 20-odd years...

And even then, I'm mostly worn with irony by young urban hipsters.

But I'm coming back, bitches.

r584 Another one that had nothing to do with dinner.

We're the shoulder pads on every female guest, a trend that died with the last episode of [italic]Dynasty[/italic].

I'm chicken and mushroom vol-au-vents. The hostess decided to go with the "80s French bistro food" theme.

Yes! Puff Pastry everything at dinner parties was very 80's (guilty)

I'm a pierogie. You'll grimace as you pretend to like me in front of the host then spit me into a napkin as soon as his back is turned.

Yes, because when I think of the 80's I think of pierogies *eyeroll*. Also, any asshole who would spit out one of god's finest foods can go to hell. Jesus, we are really limping to the finish here.

Then maybe the host is a bad cook, R590.

How

About

We try

This

Again

with

A decade

People

Here

Actually

Remember?

Wait! If pasta is served, was it sauced in the pan? Was a colander used to drain it?