8 Ways To Start a Fist Fight at a Dinner Party

If you ever want to liven up a social gathering, simply pose this question to your guests: Which would you rather have in your house, mice or roaches? People will freak out. And not just because both options are gross. Because people are oddly passionate about their infestation preferences.

Me? I’m a roach girl. If I can step on it and kill it, I’m fine with it in my home. If it needs to be glued to a thin strip of paper, where it squeals for hours before I have to decide whether to drown it in the toilet, freeze it to death next to a four year-old bottle of Jose Cuervo that’s now the consistency of IHOP syrup, or put it in a paper bag and suffocate it using the exhaust pipe of my friend’s Toyota, then I need to move. Like, immediately.

(I come by my insect allegiance honestly. A few years ago my dad, after discovering that the rental house he was staying in had a problem with rats in the roof, seriously considered sleeping in an industrial dryer.)

Another fun, drunken-argument-provoking question is whether people would rather be blind or deaf. However, this often quickly devolves into a Stevie Wonder-versus-Beethoven debate (Actual quote overheard between bong hits in college: “Symphony No. 9 kicks My Cherie Amour’s ass, dude! Stevie Wonder might as well have been deaf.”) But if neither of those time-tested debates grab you, try leading with one of these conversational rabble-rousers:

  1. I’m voting for Ron Paul!
  2. I don’t really believe Jamie Lee Curtis has boy parts.
  3. We have decided not to circumcise our son.
  4. One Tree Hill is grossly underrated.
  5. God put gays on this earth to judge televised dance competitions, not to get married.
  6. Would you rather poop once an hour on the hour every single day or poop for twenty-four hours at a stretch once a month?

Haha, okay, that last one was just a test to weed out the obvious sociopaths, because who would agree to poop every hour when you could spend a whole day pooping and catching up on your DVR queue? That’s right–I didn’t say the pooping had to happen in the bathroom! (I think this one was actually used on the SATs to assess critical reasoning skills.)

Note: If you clicked on this link hoping to find actual instructions for starting fights at dinner parties, here they are: Throw wine in someone’s face. Overturn a table, preferably while shouting “PROSTITUTION WHORE!” Attempt to pull out nearest weave. Repeat as necessary.

About Una LaMarche

Una LaMarche blogs at The Sassy Curmudgeon, and writes for The New York Observer, The Huffington Post, and NickMom. She dominates at mini golf, especially after a few drinks, and it is a fact that Tim Gunn once complimented her on her sandals. You can find her hawking blog posts and fetishizing candy on Twitter, and if you really want to feed her ego (which took a major hit thanks to an adolescent unibrow and a penchant for Troll doll earrings), you can become her fan on Facebook.

Comments

  1. TB says:

    I’ve personally tested #3. For some reason, tons of people (who aren’t even Jewish) have a problem with the fact that my son’s penis is all there. My mother in-law actually cried when we told her. She’s Catholic. She didn’t punch us, but I saw fury behind those eyes. FURY.

  2. Rachel H. Scotland says:

    Just FYI, circumcision is virtually unknown in the UK. You can claim to be being all European.

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  3. Angela says:

    I’m with you on the insect vs. mice business. Rats in the roof would have me in hysterics. I can vacuum up a spider.

    My boys are not circumsized but given I am highly regarded by many as kind of a scary bitch I have to have a real argument with anyone about it. This is just one of the several perks of being a bitch.

    That and the avoidance of a great deal of small talk.

    I despise small talk.

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  4. Diana says:

    When we were kids my dad would always tell stories about how Aunt Teresa and Aunt Bertha – both Great Aunts of mine got into a big loud argument at the wedding dinner. He didn’t know what it was about, so I always wondered.

    This year I was visiting my Great Aunt Inez (age 90 and in an assisted living facility) and I asked her about it. She said – Oh yes, that was at Bertha’s son’s wedding and Teresa wanted the flower arrangement on the table and Bertha didn’t want her to have it. Bertha put up a fuss and was not going to let Teresa have it.

    So there you have it, try to take home the centerpiece that ought to get it going.

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  5. Lisa E says:

    Dude, rodents of any kind drive me right over the edge. I will lose. My. Mind.

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