On "Birthday Dinner Parties": Installment un

I am wondering why tortilla chips are served in Chinese food to-go containers as I sit in a Mexican restaurant on New York City's upper west side, waiting for people to not be punctual. It is my friend’s birthday, and we are participating in the ritualistic “birthday dinner:” A rite of passage into young professional-dom, just one step away from “game night,” and only two steps away from pleated-slacks-wearing hostesses laboring under the incorrect assumption - due to a grave misuse of transitive property - that because a standard 750ml bottle of wine fits nicely into four standard 175ml wine glasses, one bottle is enough. Two short steps will find us sipping from our rationed glasses for the entirety of an insanely overcomplicated fanfare, which they refer to with possessive pride as their “birthday dinner party:” A maliciously misleading term that maligns its root words, forcing them into a compound that is, in your humble author’s opinion, not at all equal to the sum of its parts…A Hamptons harlot to a Hoboken harridan.