‘Hi, just calling to apologize for whatever it was I did...’

Answering machine: We can’t get to the phone right now. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you. Beeeeeeep:

Hi, you there? Oh, good, you’re not there. Listen, my wife wanted me to call and thank you ... wait, no, actually she wanted me to call and apologize -- yeah, that’s it, apologize. Something about your party last night, which we really enjoyed by the way, the parts of it we remember. You guys had a party last night, right? That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Hey, you there?

Anyway, just wanted to let you know we had a really great time at your holiday party. And we really hope the thing with the drapes works out OK. Honestly, I was just trying to get the fireplace going a little bit better, and at the time those drapes made a great bellows. Who could know the sparks would fly around your living room like that, up in the ceiling fan and then clear to the staircase? Man, your house is really drafty. And that Christmas tree was really dry. Maybe you should water that tree a little more, huh? Well, I guess it’s too late now. You see the way that firefighter dragged the flaming tree out of the house? Wow. You guys really throw great parties.

My wife also wanted me to tell you that there’s a giant stain on the carpet, just outside the kitchen. I guess she caught me moving a table on top of it -- or something -- as if it was my fault. First thing this morning, she confronted me about it. Let me tell you, before that first cup of coffee in the morning, she’s like Liza Minnelli.

By the way, what was that rocket fuel you were serving last night? Someone said it was a cosmopolitan. I say it was some sort of heroin martini. You used equal parts uranium and vodka, right? That’s my guess. They sure were good, though. Like little glasses of candy cane water. At one point, I spilled a little on my new loafer and your dog licked it clear through to my sock. Don’t worry about the shoe. There’s more imitation leather where that came from, believe me. I just hope the dog is OK. Beagles that age, one drink and they’re out. Bad drunks, beagles.

Anyway, every time I would turn around, you were refilling my glass. I want to thank you for that. This morning, I found three of those little cocktail party quiches in my coat pocket that I took but never ate. My wife says that’s why we never get invited anywhere, because we’re always taking food and drinking maybe a little too much. By “we,” of course, she means me. At this very moment, a giant cement truck is driving around my brain, doing wheelies. An hour ago, I barfed up Berlin. Thanks for the cosmos, dude. Need that recipe soonest.

So that’s why I called, just to apologize for whatever it was I did and to thank you and Kate for everything. As I always say, you have a very nice set of friends, and they made us feel very welcome. Nice friends. Does that Daphne always kiss with her tongue out? I’d like to rent your friends. Of course, I wouldn’t have to rent Bruce, since he’s a mutual friend. God, he was having a good time. He should’ve been wearing a toga. My wife said that if he hugged her one more time, she was going to tell his wife. Like his wife would’ve cared. You have great friends. Very tolerant. Very welcoming.

And your friend Doug. Did you know he’s thinking about running for governor? Seriously. Maybe it was just the wine talking, but he says he thinks California is headed off in the wrong direction. When I left, he was passing around a recall petition on a dirty cocktail napkin. In California, is a cocktail napkin a legal document? I guess in this state, anything is.

And your buddy Jeff. He’s in TV, right? Is that why he talks so loud? Was there a camera there? Was his microphone broken? Of course, I guess we were all talking too loud. By that third hour, I remember standing on our tiptoes in the kitchen and screaming at each other about Howard Dean’s domestic policy or Nicole Kidman’s real hair color, I don’t remember. Everybody was yelling, but it was happy yelling, you know. Like we were in a locker room after a big game. Seriously, I love Jeff. Can he really get us into the Playboy Mansion? Call me about that, OK?

Anyway, buddy, really sorry about those drapes. Could’ve been worse, I guess. If I hadn’t pulled over your aquarium at just the right moment, the fire could’ve spread to the carpet, and then we really would’ve had a bad situation, let me tell you. But I’m sorry about those drapes. You had a designer, right? The wife wanted me to ask.

And the aquarium fish. They were the real heroes, not me. Were those the fish you brought back from Fiji on your anniversary? Jeeesh, sorry about the fish. I hope the insurance covers the little guys. My last recollection is of that beautiful neon tetra flopping around your couch pillow.

Well, listen, thanks again for the party. We’d like to have you guys over very soon, but you know, with the baby and all it’s a little hard to entertain. The little guy has pretty much nursed her dry and the older ones are driving us both crazy. Did I tell you I’m doing a lot of the ironing now? The place is a mess. I can’t even find the toaster. But, seriously, have us over anytime. We love you guys. We love your house, especially after the remodel. If you need any help with the smoke damage ...

Answering machine: Beeeeeeep.

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Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.