11 Party Problems · The Thousand Dumbest Questions

Every party has one person standing near the snack table asking strange questions. These are their questions.

101. If I blow out all the candles, do I get all the wishes or just one big one?

One big one. Wishes don't stack. Extra candles just mean extra smoke and an extra year, which is the opposite of a wish. The Wish Department, located somewhere above the clouds in a beige office building, processes birthday wishes in batches and has a strict one-per-customer policy. Blowing out 40 candles in one breath doesn't upgrade you to 40 wishes; it just upgrades you to a coughing fit and a cake covered in spit. If you miss a candle, the wish goes to whoever relights it, which is how trick-candle manufacturers have become so powerful.

102. Is it still a surprise party if I planned it myself?

It's a surprise for anyone who doubted you had friends. Act shocked when you walk in. You've earned it. Practise in the mirror first: hand over mouth, a small gasp, the words "you guys!" with a little crack in your voice. For extra realism, hide behind your own couch for 40 minutes before you arrive, then jump out at yourself. Some people take it further and send themselves a fake invite, then complain about the short notice. P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

That's commitment. Your friends will show up, eat your snacks and say "we totally would have planned this." They would not have.

103. How many balloons does it take to lift a birthday cake?

About 150 regular helium balloons for an average cake. The cake has not consented to this. A cake rising slowly into the sky, frosting first, while children scream and an uncle tries to lasso it with a garden hose is a beautiful sight, but it voids the bakery's warranty. Once airborne, a cake drifts east with the wind and is often spotted by pilots, who report it as "a small, sweet UFO." Eventually the balloons pop one by one and the cake returns to Earth in a field, where it's discovered by a very lucky family of raccoons. They will call it a miracle.

104. Can I RSVP "maybe" to my own wedding?

You can, but your partner will RSVP "we need to talk." Tick the yes box. A "maybe" to your own wedding forces the caterer to prepare half a chicken dinner, the band to learn only the first verse of every song and the officiant to say "you may now probably kiss the bride." Guests will be confused, the cake will lean slightly to one side out of uncertainty and your mother will cry, but for different reasons. If you RSVP "no," the wedding still happens, just without you, and honestly the photos will be easier. Tick yes. Bring a plus-one: your partner.

105. Is the bouquet toss a sport?

In some families it's a contact sport. Stretch first and wear sensible shoes. Rules vary by region: in some places it's like basketball, in others it's like rugby and in at least one Saskatchewan town it's played with full hockey equipment and a referee. Elbows are allowed but frowned upon. Diving is permitted if you can land it gracefully, which no one can. The bouquet tends to land on whoever didn't try, usually a 7-year-old cousin or the DJ, which causes great confusion about who's getting married next. Olympic committees have declined it four times, citing "too much screaming."

106. Why do we sing to people before they're allowed to eat

their cake?

Because cake must be earned. The song is a toll, paid in mild embarrassment. You must sit there while 15 people sing slightly off-key, your candles drip wax onto the frosting and someone films it vertically. You can't sing along, because that's weird. You can't not smile, because that's rude. You just sit there, holding your face in a shape like "thank you, this is fine," for 23 very long seconds. Then you blow out the candles and everyone claps, as if you'd done something brave. You have. You survived the song. Now eat the cake.

107. If a party is BYOB, can I bring my own bear?

Only if the bear brings a beverage. Bears are terrible guests: they eat all the snacks and never help clean up. They also arrive hungry after hibernation, sit on the good couch and leave fur on everything. A bear at a party will tell the same story about a salmon 14 times and get louder each time. On the plus side, nobody will argue with the bear about music, and the bear will absolutely start the dance floor. Grizzlies are rowdy, black bears are shy and polar bears always complain the room is too warm. Panda bears just eat the plants.

108. What's the polite amount of cake to take when nobody's

looking?

One more slice than you'd take if somebody were looking. Leave the plate. Plates are evidence. Fork too. Wipe the frosting off your lip with the back of your hand, never a napkin, because napkins can be traced. If someone walks in mid-bite, freeze and pretend you're inspecting the cake for quality on behalf of the host. Say "it's moist" with authority. Corner pieces count as one and a half slices. The very thin slice you cut to "even out the edge" counts as zero, even if you do it six times. That's just maintenance. P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

109. Do party hats come in adult sizes, or do we all just

accept the elastic?

We all accept the elastic. It's the price of joy, and it will leave a mark under your chin. Party hats are made in one size, which is "a 4-year-old," and adults wear them on the side of their heads like small, festive horns. The elastic was designed by the same people who invented the rubber band that snaps right before you need it. Around 9 p.m. it gives up and pings off into the dip. Some adults wear their party hat on their forehead like a unicorn horn, which is the correct choice and should be respected.

110. If I'm the last one to leave the party, am I the host now?

Yes. Ownership transfers at midnight. You're now responsible for the dishes and somebody's jacket. The original host has quietly gone to bed and will refer to you as "the new owner" from now on. You inherit the half-eaten veggie tray, the playlist and the guest who's asleep on the stairs. Property taxes are due in the morning, payable in coffee. If you want to give the party back, you have to find someone who will stay later than you, and the only person who stays later than the last person is a raccoon. See question 121. They'll take it.

111. Is a piñata hiding the candy or protecting it?

Protecting it, bravely, and we hit it with a stick anyway. The piñata is the most heroic guest at any party, and nobody ever thanks it. It hangs there, smiling, shaped like a donkey or a cartoon character, holding the candy close like a secret. Blindfolded children take turns swinging at it, and it never once complains. When it finally breaks, it doesn't cry; it rains candy, which is the most generous way to die. Some piñatas are so tough they outlast the birthday, and an adult has to finish the job with scissors. That piñata goes down in history. It was a legend.

112. How do I know if I'm the fun cousin?

If you have to ask, you're the cousin who asks. The fun cousin is too busy being fun to wonder. Signs you are the fun cousin: children follow you around, aunts give you a look and you've been banned from the trampoline at least once. Signs you're not: you brought a spreadsheet to the family reunion or you said "let's all calm down" during a water balloon fight. Every family has exactly one fun cousin, one cousin who's a dentist and one cousin nobody has seen since 2015. If you're not sure which you are, you're probably the dentist.

113. Can I regift a gift back to the person who gave it to me?

Yes. It's called returning the favour, literally. Use their original wrapping paper for full effect. Watch their face as they recognize the gift, then recognize the paper, then recognize themselves. Some families have been passing the same fruitcake back and forth since 1987. It's now hard enough to use as a doorstop and has its own birthday. If the gift is passed back to you again, you're legally married to it. Some families keep a regift ledger to track who has which scented candle at any given time. It's more complex than the stock market, and just as emotional.

114. Why do trick candles keep relighting?

They have commitment issues about endings. (Also, a little magnesium in the wick.) Trick candles are the people who say "one more thing" at the end of a meeting. You blow them out, they pretend to leave, then they come right back with a little sparkle like nothing happened. The person whose birthday it is will blow five times, turn red and finally pour water on the cake, which ruins everything for everyone. Trick candles are always bought by an uncle. That uncle has been doing this for 30 years and laughs every single time. Let him have this too.

115. Is it rude to eat the decorations?

Only if they aren't edible. If you're not sure, they aren't. Put down the streamer. Streamers are crepe paper and taste like disappointment. Balloons taste like regret and rubber. Confetti is a terrible snack and will follow you for years (see question 122). Edible decorations include sugar flowers, chocolate figurines and the little silver balls on cupcakes, which are technically edible but feel like eating tiny ball bearings. If you see someone eating a paper napkin, it's probably the toddler. If it's not the toddler, it's Brent. Never invite Brent to a party with a centrepiece. P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

116. What do I wear to a "dressy casual, formal optional"

event?

A tuxedo jacket over pajamas. That covers all four categories at once. Add dress shoes for "formal," slippers in your bag for "casual" and a tie loosely knotted so it says "I could go either way." Dress codes were invented by people who enjoy watching guests panic in front of their closets. Other confusing dress codes include "festive cocktail," "creative black tie" and "come as you are," which never means it. If all else fails, wear black and look mysterious. Nobody questions a person in black. They might be the caterer, the host or a spy.

117. If I clap at the end of a wedding speech, am I agreeing to the marriage too?

No, but if you clap too hard you'll be asked to give the next speech. Clap at a medium volume. Wedding speech clapping has a strict scale: polite clapping (for the best man's joke that didn't land), warm clapping (for the maid of honour), standing clapping (for grandma) and slow clapping (only for very bad karaoke, later). If you whoop, you're now in charge of the conga line. If you whistle, the DJ will hand you a microphone. Clap like you're patting a baby's back: gentle, steady and with no intention of drawing attention to yourself.

118. How long after a party should I stop eating the

leftovers?

When the leftovers start looking back at you. Officially, three to four days in the fridge. Unofficially, leftovers go through stages: day one is a treat, day two is a lunch, day three is a gamble, day four is a science experiment, and day five is a pet. The potato salad goes first; it always does. The cake lasts longer because sugar is basically a preservative and also a lifestyle. If you find leftovers from a party you don't remember attending, close the fridge, walk away and move to a new apartment. Some battles aren't worth fighting.

119. Is a party with one person a party or just a Tuesday?

It's a Tuesday wearing a hat. Still counts. A one-person party has excellent advantages: you control the music, there are no lines for the bathroom and the cake is 100% yours. Dance like nobody's watching, because nobody is, except possibly your cat, who will judge you, and your neighbour across the street, who will tell everyone. Make a speech to yourself. Clap for yourself. Then go to bed at 9:30, which is the best part of any party. Some of the greatest parties in history had one guest. They just never made the news.

120. Can I cut the cake from the middle so nobody notices?

Everyone notices. A cake with a hole in the middle is a donut now, and you changed its identity without asking. The cake will need time to adjust and may need therapy, or at least a fresh layer of frosting. Some people try to hide the hole by pushing the outer edges inward, creating a smaller, sadder cake with a scar. Others put a candle in the hole and pretend it's a design choice. It's not a design choice. Everyone knows it was you, because you have frosting on your elbow. Next time, cut a normal slice like a normal person and eat it in the open.

121. Why does everyone end up in the kitchen at parties?

That's where the food lives, and humans are raccoons with better manners. The living room never stood a chance. The host spends weeks decorating the living room with lights and good chairs, and by 8:30 p.m. all 30 guests are crammed between the fridge and the stove, leaning on the counter and eating olives from the jar. Kitchens are warm, smell good and have an escape route. Also, the person standing next to the chip bowl is always the most interesting person at the party. By 11 p.m., someone is sitting in the sink. That's how you know it was a good party.

122. Is confetti biodegradable or eternal?

Eternal. You'll find a piece in your shoe three years from now, and it will feel like a message. Confetti has a half-life longer than uranium. It hides in carpet fibres, car seats, pockets and, somehow, the inside of sealed envelopes. Archaeologists of the future will dig up our cities and find P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

mainly confetti and phone chargers. Some biodegradable confetti now exists and breaks down nicely, which is lovely, but the old shiny kind will outlive us all. If you throw confetti at a wedding, you are not celebrating the couple; you are decorating their life forever.

123. Can I sing "Happy Birthday" faster to get to the cake

sooner?

You can, but someone will drag the last line out like an opera solo. That person is your aunt. She has been preparing for this moment since the last birthday and will hold the final "to you" for at least 11 seconds, adding a key change nobody asked for. Speed-singing does work in some families: the record is 4.2 seconds, set in Lethbridge by a family of seven who were all very hungry. But the song has a built-in safety mechanism called "and many more," which some people add at the end to extend it, purely out of chaos. Those people are not your friends.

124. If I forget someone's birthday, can I celebrate it twice next year?

Then they'd age two years in one night, and nobody wants that. Send a card that says "Belated" in large, apologetic letters. The belated card industry is huge and thrives on guilt. Some cards say "Sorry I'm late," some say "I was saving it for maximum impact," and the best ones just have a sad-looking turtle on them. If you forgot their birthday two years in a row, upgrade to a cake with an apology written in icing. If it's three years, you're no longer late; you're just someone who knows them a bit. Put the date in your phone. Gerald will remind you.

125. Do clowns have to clock in?

They clock in, honk twice and climb out of a very small car. Their union is strong and their shoes are long. Every clown has a punch card, which they punch with a squeaky hammer. Clown break rooms are full of seltzer bottles, balloon scraps and a coffee maker that sprays water in your face when you press the button. Sick days are taken by sending a single rubber chicken to the office. Overtime pays in cream pies. The clown union, the International Brotherhood of Honkers, has negotiated excellent benefits, including dental, which is important because of all the pies.

126. Is a gift card a present or homework?

Homework. Now you have to visit one specific store, find something worth exactly $25 and pay the $3.79 difference. Most gift cards are never fully used. Somewhere in your wallet right now is a card with $1.12 left on it from a coffee chain that changed its name. Economists estimate there's billions of dollars trapped on half-used gift cards worldwide, which is the largest hidden treasure in history and nobody is looking for it. The kindest gift card is a gift card for exactly the price of one specific thing. That's not a gift card. That's just the thing, with extra steps.

127. How many times should I say "we should do this again"?

Three times, with feeling. Then never do it again. That's the tradition. Once while putting on your coat, once in the doorway and once while walking backward to the car. Optional fourth time is a text the next morning: "Last night was so fun! We should do this again!" The other person will reply "Definitely!" which in this context means "see you at a wedding in 2031." Some people actually do it again, which shocks everyone and creates a friendship. This is rare and should be studied by scientists.

128. Why are there always more forks than plates at a party?

Forks multiply in drawers. Plates do not. Science has stopped asking. Leave two forks alone in a drawer overnight and by morning there will be seven, plus a mysterious tiny cocktail fork nobody remembers buying. Plates, meanwhile, are solitary and only break. That's why every party ends with 40 plastic forks and someone eating cake off a napkin. Spoons, as established in question 93, are on strike and hiding. Knives are the rarest of all, and the one knife available will be a butter knife being used to cut a pizza. P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

129. If I wear a costume to a non-costume party, does it

become a costume party?

Only if one other person joins you. Two costumes make a theme; one makes a story people tell for years. Walking into a quiet dinner party dressed as a lobster requires confidence and also excellent posture. Some people will think you lost a bet. Some will think you're the entertainment and request a song. Your one advantage is that you'll be remembered forever, not as "the person who came to dinner" but as "the lobster." Every future invitation will be addressed to "the lobster." You've made your bed. It has claws.

130. Can I tip the DJ in song requests?

The DJ accepts tips in cash, snacks or silence. The DJ does not accept a fifth request for the same song. The DJ has heard "can you play something we can dance to?" more times than any human should and has developed an emotional immunity to it. Requests for the Chicken Dance are handled by a secret DJ code that involves pretending the song doesn't exist. Bringing the DJ a sandwich is the fastest way to get your song played. Bringing the DJ a glass of water is the second fastest. Asking the DJ to "turn it down but also make it louder" will get you put on a list.

131. How do I leave a party without saying goodbye to 40

people?

Walk backwards toward the door while nodding. Everyone will assume you're arriving. This is called the Reverse Entrance and it has been used by introverts for centuries. Other techniques include the Irish goodbye (just leave), the Canadian goodbye (say goodbye 40 times over 90 minutes), and the Fake Phone Call, which works until your phone rings for real. Leave your coat by the door early to reduce exit time. Avoid eye contact with the host, the host's mom and anyone holding a tray of desserts, because they will hand you a container of leftovers and a 20- minute story.

132. Is it bad luck to see the cake before the party?

Only for the cake. Once it's seen, it's eaten. Wedding cakes are kept in special back rooms like celebrities, surrounded by staff and warned not to make eye contact with guests. The moment the cake is revealed, its fate is sealed: within 45 minutes it will be sliced, plated and smeared on someone's face. Birthday cakes are less dramatic but just as doomed. If you see a cake early, say nothing and give it a respectful nod. It knows what's coming. It's prepared. It was baked for this purpose and it's proud of it.

133. Who decided the cake should be on fire before we eat it?

An ancient baker who was very bad at baking and very good at distractions. It worked. We still do it. Legend says the first birthday cake was burnt on top, so the baker stuck a few lit sticks in it and shouted "Make a wish!" Everyone was so busy wishing that nobody noticed the cake was charcoal. The trick became tradition, and now we set every cake on fire on purpose, sing to it and blow on it, which is, if you think about it, the strangest food ritual in human history. Nobody sets fire to lasagna. Lasagna has a lawyer (see question 10).

134. Should I bring a gift to a baby shower if I'm the baby?

No. You're the guest of honour. Just show up and cry; everyone will love it. As the baby, you're technically not invited to your own baby shower, since you're still inside someone, but your presence is felt, mostly as kicks during the gift opening. The games at baby showers include guessing the size of the belly with string and tasting baby food blindfolded, which is the only time adults voluntarily eat strained peas. Once you're born, you'll receive 14 identical onesies and a stuffed giraffe. You won't remember any of it, which is the best gift of all.

135. How many mini sausage rolls is a meal?

Fourteen is a snack. Thirty is a meal. Forty-five is a lifestyle. Sixty is a medical event. Mini sausage rolls are the most dangerous food at any party because they're small enough to feel innocent and warm enough to feel like love. People who say "just one more" have never once stopped P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

at one more. The host always makes too few, so the last sausage roll becomes the subject of intense polite negotiations: everyone wants it, nobody takes it, and it sits there until the host's dad eats it in the kitchen at 1 a.m. while standing up. That's the circle of life.

136. Is karaoke singing, or just shouting in a key?

Shouting with subtitles. Confidence is 90% of the score. The remaining 10% is choosing a song that's shorter than your lung capacity. Karaoke machines rate performances out of 100, using a secret algorithm that rewards enthusiasm and ignores talent completely. A man in Red Deer once scored 99 by screaming the alphabet over a Celine Dion song. Karaoke is also the only time a group of adults will sit politely through someone's six-minute power ballad, then fight over who gets to sing "Bohemian Rhapsody" next. Spoiler: everyone sings it together. Nobody knows the middle.

137. If nobody dances first, does the dance floor exist?

Only as a rumour, until someone's uncle proves it's real. Every party has an empty dance floor for the first 90 minutes, surrounded by a ring of people holding drinks and nodding to the beat like they're considering it. Then the uncle arrives. He takes off his jacket, points at the DJ and walks onto the dance floor alone, moving like a man who has never been embarrassed in his life. Within 30 seconds, a small child joins him. Then grandma. Then everyone. The uncle is a hero. Statues should be built. They won't be, but he doesn't need them.

138. Can I bring my own chair to a party in case the good

ones are taken?

Yes, and you'll be the smartest person there. Everyone else will be sitting on a cooler. Party seating follows a strict hierarchy: the good couch goes to whoever arrives first, the dining chairs go to grandparents, the stools go to the tall people and everyone else ends up on the floor, the stairs or, in emergencies, the laundry basket. Bringing your own chair is a power move. Bring a folding camp chair with a cup holder and you'll become a legend. By the end of the night, three people will try to buy it from you.

139. Why do people shout "Speech!" and then immediately

regret it?

Because the person who stands up always has a 40-minute story about a canoe trip. Never shout "Speech!" near anyone who owns a canoe. The canoe story always starts at the wrong place, includes a moose, a paddle that "wasn't really a paddle" and a detour into the person's grandfather's opinions on fishing. By minute 25, the ice in everyone's drinks has melted. By minute 35, the canoe has not yet been launched. The only way to end it is to start clapping halfway through a sentence, which is technically rude but considered a public service.

140. Is it a potluck if everyone brings chips?

It's a chip-luck, and it's the most honest party there is. Nobody pretended to cook. Nobody brought an ambitious casserole that nobody touched. There's plain, salt and vinegar, sour cream and onion, ketchup (a Canadian treasure) and one weird bag of seaweed-flavoured something from the cousin who travels. The only fight will be over who brought the dip, and the answer is nobody. At the end of the night, everyone takes home half-empty bags of someone else's chips, which is the true potluck spirit. It's beautiful. It's crunchy. It's democracy.

141. Can I wrap a present inside another present?

Yes. It's called a nesting gift, and it's very efficient unless the outer gift is a sweater. Then you've just put a box inside a sweater, and the person thinks you're giving them a very lumpy sweater, which is worse. The best nesting gifts go box, box, box, box, tiny box, ring. The worst go box, box, box, box, tiny box, a note that says "ha." Some families have taken it to extremes, wrapping a single chocolate inside 19 layers so that Christmas morning takes six hours and requires snacks. Respect the wrapping paper budget. It's finite.

142. What do I say when someone opens my gift and makes a

confused face?

"It's an heirloom." Nobody argues with an heirloom. Even if it's a ceramic frog wearing a tiny hat, if you say "it was my grandmother's" P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

with a slight tremble in your voice, they'll put it on the mantel and keep it for 30 years. If they ask what it's for, say "it's for luck." If they ask how it works, say "it just does." If they ask where your grandmother got it, say "Belgium." Nobody has ever followed up on Belgium. The frog will eventually be passed down as an actual heirloom, which means you didn't lie. You just predicted the future.

143. If the party starts at 7, when does it actually start?

7:45, when the first guest who isn't a relative arrives. The relatives arrived at 6:15 and rearranged your fridge. Your aunt has already reorganized the spice rack and your uncle has "fixed" your thermostat. At 7:00 exactly, one very punctual person will knock and then stand awkwardly in the hallway while you finish vacuuming. At 8:30, the party actually starts. At 9:00, someone texts "on my way!" from their couch. At 10:00, they arrive with a bag of chips (see question 140). In Canada, add 20 minutes for snow, 10 for saying goodbye to the previous party and 5 for finding parking.

144. How do I politely tell people the party's over?

Turn on every light and start vacuuming. Guests flee bright light and loud noise like moths in reverse. If that fails, put on your pajamas and say "well, it's been lovely." Advanced hosts start collecting glasses from people's hands while they're still drinking, or begin brushing their teeth in front of everyone. Truly desperate hosts will play the same song on repeat until guests break, usually "Closing Time" or a polka. Never just say "the party's over" directly. That's rude. Instead, yawn loudly, stretch dramatically and ask everyone where they parked.

145. Are party favours a thank-you or a bribe to come back?

A bribe. Nobody needs a tiny bubble wand at 34, but you'll come back. Party favours work on the same principle as the free mints at a restaurant: a small gesture creates a lifelong sense of obligation. Wedding favours are fancier bribes: little jars of jam, candles with the couple's names on them, or a single macaron in a box, which is the most expensive cookie per gram on Earth. Kids' party favour bags contain a plastic whistle, a bouncy ball and a sticker, all of which are lost in the car by the time you reach the stop sign.

146. Can I get a refund on a birthday?

No, but you may decline to count it. This is a popular option after 40. Some people choose to be 39 for 11 years in a row, a technique pioneered by aunts. Others switch to counting in different units: "I'm 3 decades and some change," or "I'm 470 months." The birthday itself can't be refunded, but the candles can be negotiated down. Many people over 50 switch to one candle shaped like a question mark. It's honest, it's mysterious and it's safer, because putting 50 candles on a cake is legally a bonfire.

147. Is the kids' table a table or a state of mind?

A state of mind. Some people sit there until they're 45 and are happier for it. The kids' table has crayons, no political arguments and first access to the desserts. The adult table has real plates, tense silences and an uncle explaining interest rates. Graduating from the kids' table is a rite of passage, but many people quietly return later in life, saying they're "supervising." They're not supervising. They're colouring. The best seat at any family dinner is at the end of the kids' table, close enough to escape and far enough from the gravy boat.

148. Who actually eats the fruit platter?

Nobody. The fruit platter exists to make the cake look responsible. It goes home with the host and retires to the fridge. Occasionally, one person eats exactly three grapes from it to show they're "being good," then eats four brownies. The cantaloupe is always left untouched, because cantaloupe is the fruit equivalent of saying "I'm fine" when you're not. Scientists believe there is only one fruit platter in the world, and it has been travelling from party to party since 1996, getting slightly sadder each time. If you see a lonely honeydew wedge, salute it. P A R T Y P R O B L E M S

149. Can a balloon animal be adopted?

Yes, but it has a short life and it squeaks when hugged. Keep it away from cats, cactuses and your cousin's earrings. Balloon animals are born at birthday parties, raised in the back seat of a car and usually pass away within 72 hours, often unexpectedly, with a loud pop that makes everyone scream. Most balloon animals are "dogs," although many of them look like a long sausage with ears, or, frankly, a mistake. The clown who made it will not take questions about what species it is. A balloon giraffe is the most dignified. A balloon octopus is a cry for help.

150. If I throw a party for my houseplants, do they need to

RSVP?

They've already responded by not moving, which is a yes. Serve water. Arrange them in a circle so they can see each other, and put the cactus in a corner because it's prickly in social situations. Play soft music: plants reportedly enjoy classical music, but the fern secretly prefers country. Don't serve fertilizer as a snack; it's considered rude, like bringing protein powder to a wine tasting. The party will be quiet and slow, and at the end, the spider plant will have made a baby, which is the plant equivalent of getting engaged at someone else's party (see question 693).