There is overstimulation with the flickering candle-simulation, the canapes, especially the shrimp bowl, the burbling jazz and the people asking you what you do in a really insinuating and uncomfortable way like what you do -- poetry writing-- is somehow less than, inferior to whatever it is that they do: skydiving corporate mergers. What do you do with your sad clown hands?
5) Pull hands into sleeves, make an elephant trunk. Lumber around the shrimp bowl, bellowing.
4) Carry two glasses of wine at all times. Every time someone takes the secondary glass that you've so kindly offered, go get a tertiary glass, and so on.
3) There is no word relating to the number eleven, but there is one that relates to the number twelve: duodenary.
2) Converse like this and no one will care what you do with your hands.
1) The shrimp bowl is yours.