Category Archives: party

Roller Skate!

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Even though she turned seven a couple weeks ago, Emily (yes – I used her real name – I’m getting tired of the anonymity) had her birthday party on Saturday at the local skating rink. She had a great time doing this:

And this:

And this:

And even this:

She had a great time with her friends, spent time making everyone feel welcome (she can drive me crazy, but she’s very kind), and appreciated each and every gift she got.

Yesterday, we got up to get ready for a fun day at 77 Kids (more on that later – hint: GIVEAWAY!) and I asked her what she wanted to wear. Her reply? “Either the outfit Alexis got me or a meat dress.”

Guess which one I went for.

Be sure to check back soon for a chance to win an awesome gift card!

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Fro Party

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I met mr b at work. I was 21, finishing school, and needed something part-time to make ends meet. I saw an ad that a local restaurant was hiring and the next day I was officially a waitress. My first day of work, I learned that the staff generally hung out in the bar after work and had a few drinks (Or more. It turned out to be the shittiest and yet most fun place to work). I wasn’t planning on staying, since I didn’t really know anyone yet, but one of the waitresses, Kay, called me over. She was about 20 years older than me, and very sweet. I figured what the hell and decided to stay for a drink (or more). We did the same thing the next night. And the next. And we became friends really quickly.

We talked about a lot of stuff – her kids, my school, her day job, my love life. Or lack thereof, I should say. I was feeling pretty jaded about guys at the time. Between the longish-term asshole who broke up with me when he was turning 21 so he could go out and fuck around, the too sweet, bad sex rebound guy, the jackass who just disappeared, and the ten-thousand idiots I was meeting in bars every week, I was ready to swear off men forever. I said as much to Kay and she said five words that changed the course of my life. She said, “You would love my brother.”

It turned out that he worked there part time, too, but he was on vacation. She spent the next week telling me all about him – how great he was – smart, good-looking, about how we had similar interests and tastes. I fell for him a little without even meeting him. In the meantime, she was calling him every night and telling him all about me.

I was anxious about his impending first day back on the job – excited, but nervous. And then, the night before he was due to come back, she said, “Oh, I finally remembered to bring you a picture!”

And then…

Oh GOD, and then she handed me a photo of him from 1978!

And even though I could clearly tell that it was an outdated photo, it wasn’t enough for me not to feel the horror at what I was seeing. Weird, tight pants. Giant lapels on the shirt. Huge afro. Tinted aviator glasses. PORN-STACHE!!!

I gave her something very similar to “Present Face” and said, “Uh…um…so…uh…WOW! He’s um…really cute!”

And then I thought about quitting immediately.

But I needed the job, so that was out. And eventually I decided that since I was pretty much striking out in the love department, that even with his stache/fro ensemble, he couldn’t be any worse than the flaming dickheads I’d been meeting and I figured I’d give him a chance. Obviously, he turned out not to be the freak that I was expecting and the rest is history.

The story is pretty famous among our family and friends and the photo is notorious. So for his 50th birthday party, I got a photo album that holds one photo per page and has a space for an inscription. And I found a giant, light brown afro. And I made porn-staches out of felt (buying them would have cost a fortune). And I took a photo of every single guest wearing them, and had them sign the book.

It was a blast.

Me:
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The kids:
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My 90 year old grandma:
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My 8 month old cousin:
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My insane friend in what is my favorite (though censored) photo:
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Some of the many, many more:
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Monday…blech

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I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Not that it was particularly wild and crazy, unless you count shopping, cleaning and organizing as wild and crazy, that is.

Mr b was away this weekend – our awesome nephew Pap took him to Charlotte to see Widespread Panic and The Allman Brothers as a 50th birthday gift. He had a great time and quite enjoyed rubbing it in and sending me photos of Widespread Panic. It’s just not right. I drowned my sorrows in pomegranate mojitos. In his defense, he did come home with shirts for me and the kids, so I think I’ll keep him.

Friday, I dragged Hedge along on a shopping trip, since I had a giant list of things I needed to buy for the upcoming party. Not that hedge was super-excited about going to Hell-Mart or anything. I tricked her into going with the promise of a birthday dinner and gift. So we failed miserably at the shopping and ended up stuffing ourselves with food, mojitos and balls (!?!?) at Tusca. Because she is turning FORTY. FORTY FORTY FORTY! HEDGE IS FORTY! Ahem. Anyway, I wanted to get her something special for her big day, and I thought long and hard before I came up with the perfect, tear-jerking, sentimental gift. About 30 years ago, we started calling each other Hedgehog and Rooster. So I designed a t-shirt for her with this on it:

It brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it? of course I got one for myself, too, because who wouldn’t want that?

Saturday, I went back out to finish the shopping, then came home for another mojito party. Rapunzel and Scabs came over to help me get some stuff done, which really meant “to help drink a half gallon of rum.” We did a fine job, if I do say so myself. Luckily, Scabs and I weren’t too hungover on Sunday to get as shitload of organizing and decorating done. The walls in the addition have been bare for over a year now, since I suck at decorating, so I put Scabs to work and she hung stuff and made it look way better than anything I would have done. The room looks a lot less empty and crappy now. She also kicked my ass into getting rid of a ton of stuff, which I needed.

I still have a ton of things to do and get, but I am a hell of a lot closer than I was last week. So, yay!

Oh, also – on Friday night, Hedge and I were getting off the expressway and I accidentally went through the e-z pass lane (even though I knew mr b had taken the ez-pass and I had cash in hand), and as I was sitting there like a jackass, trying to put money in while it kept spotting it back out, I noticed that a) it was the ez-pass lane, and b) the light was green. So I went through and hoped that I wouldn’t end up getting ticket. Anyway, this morning, I went through the pay lane, (since mr b didn’t give back the ez-pass) and before I even got to the pay basket, the light turned green and the bar went up. So clearly? I HAVE THE MAGIC! I called mr b to tell him:

RingRing

Him: I know, I know, I still have the ez-pass

Me: No – it happened again! It turned green and I didn’t even pay! I HAVE THE MAGIC!

Him: OK…so…is that all you called me for?

Me: Duh. You’d call me if you discovered you had the magic, wouldn’t you?

Him: Yeah, I guess so. So…congratulations? I gotta go.

Me: Fine. You’re just mad because you don’t have the magic.