Monday, May 01, 2006
It's Party Time. Excellent.
The Wife and I had our first annual Arbor Day party on Saturday. It was good times, if you completely ignore the crappy weather. I had a feeling it would rain. And Tom Skilling agreed with me. But Saturday started out looking decidedly un-rainy (it's a word). Of course, when the church bells struck 3:00 (the time that our fiesta officially began), the first drops started to fall. Still, much fun was had in-doors.
The Wife invited her Coven of Mommies. (By the way, I give full props to one of the Dads who came up with the term "Coven" to describe them. I'm going to appropriate that. He can sue me for trademark infringement later.) What's the Coven of Mommies? The Wife started an on-line group of local moms who could get together for play-dates and such. (For the children, that is. Mommies don't have "play-dates." They have "drink-dates.")
What made things interesting is that The Wife invited the Coven and their husbands. I don't want to speak for all the Coven Dads, but I think we were all a little weary of meeting each other. It's one thing for our wives to meet each other on the internet. That's completely acceptable since our wives are completely insane. (Well, mine is anyway. Then again, since I met The Wife on the internet, I shouldn't really be throwing stones.)
By natural extension, men who marry insane women must be insane themselves, right? Well, that's how I think all the Dads were thinking. So when we got together on Saturday, all the Dads were on their toes. None of us were sure who would be the first one to pull out a knife or ask someone to move a piano. (I'm glad I can be the crazy "piano-moving" guy. Yay!) After awhile, the Dads realized that the others Dads aren't all completely nuts. Of course, the beers we were chugging might have helped make things easier.
So you can only imagine my joy when I heard that the Dads said that they all thought the other Dads were "normal." I felt slightly offended by that. I mean, they don't know me at all. I'm nowhere NEAR normal. And I won't have them slander me by saying that I am. I guess this just means that I have to really lit it rip next time I see them. I'm going to go from the crazy Piano-Moving Guy to the crazy Passed-Out-Naked-In-The-Living-Room Guy. Yes, I'm really looking forward to our next party....
The Wife invited her Coven of Mommies. (By the way, I give full props to one of the Dads who came up with the term "Coven" to describe them. I'm going to appropriate that. He can sue me for trademark infringement later.) What's the Coven of Mommies? The Wife started an on-line group of local moms who could get together for play-dates and such. (For the children, that is. Mommies don't have "play-dates." They have "drink-dates.")
What made things interesting is that The Wife invited the Coven and their husbands. I don't want to speak for all the Coven Dads, but I think we were all a little weary of meeting each other. It's one thing for our wives to meet each other on the internet. That's completely acceptable since our wives are completely insane. (Well, mine is anyway. Then again, since I met The Wife on the internet, I shouldn't really be throwing stones.)
By natural extension, men who marry insane women must be insane themselves, right? Well, that's how I think all the Dads were thinking. So when we got together on Saturday, all the Dads were on their toes. None of us were sure who would be the first one to pull out a knife or ask someone to move a piano. (I'm glad I can be the crazy "piano-moving" guy. Yay!) After awhile, the Dads realized that the others Dads aren't all completely nuts. Of course, the beers we were chugging might have helped make things easier.
So you can only imagine my joy when I heard that the Dads said that they all thought the other Dads were "normal." I felt slightly offended by that. I mean, they don't know me at all. I'm nowhere NEAR normal. And I won't have them slander me by saying that I am. I guess this just means that I have to really lit it rip next time I see them. I'm going to go from the crazy Piano-Moving Guy to the crazy Passed-Out-Naked-In-The-Living-Room Guy. Yes, I'm really looking forward to our next party....
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Let's be realistic.. if you really want to go for not normal.. you don't become THAT guy at YOUR next party, but at THEIR next party.. who(m)ever they may be.
And note, that does not mean MY next party.. I already know you're not normal.. I think that was officially dictated by your response to the email survey I sent prior to us meeting. Man that was a good time. I'll refrain from using the nickname that produced.
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And note, that does not mean MY next party.. I already know you're not normal.. I think that was officially dictated by your response to the email survey I sent prior to us meeting. Man that was a good time. I'll refrain from using the nickname that produced.
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