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Just got back from a baby shower. Said my Hellos. I stayed 30 minutes because there was nothing for me at this party. First, it was one of those invite the whole family type showers and I don’t have a kid or husband to reluctantly drag. The mutual co-worker who was supposed to attend with me cancelled (ugh, 4th time in a row this bitch has bailed on concrete plans). I showed up with my thick stack of Dr. Suess books elegantly wrapped. I dropped the present off at the designated table occupied by several medium-sized gift bags. I greeted the mom-to-be who was dressed in a tight, fuchsia, cotton, ruched tube dress. She looked like a raspberry. I told her as much, which in hindsight she may not have appreciated, but I love raspberries so I didn’t intend the comment pejoratively. Dad-to-be and I chatted for awhile, but I noticed the side-eye of the older ladies when our conversation extended beyond 5 minutes of appropriate small talk. Who is that predatory single woman circling the dad-in-waiting? Please. There are no secret yearnings. Excuse the blatant bitchery, but if I wanted him I could have him a year ago when we first met and he was drooling all over himself.
After I was done talking to the two guests of honor, I wandered around a little bit and introduced myself to a few other folks standing solo. Nobody seemed very interested in small talk, and it’s not my strength anyway. When in doubt, hit the buffet, right? Well you already know that I refer to buffets at barffets and am never in the mood for a group feeding. This spread was particularly bleak. Two circular trays of Subway-style sandwiches of dubious origin and questionable content. The fold-out tables lacked proper placards describing the menu. Just down from the sandwich wheels where huge bowls of standard potato chips. Why do people do this? Put out enough potato chips to feed and army just to watch them soften into stale after the first hour. Plate of pickles, ok, I get the nod to pregnancy cravings. A couple of large bowls of mystery potato-salad glop remained untouched. The beverage options included electric yellow “lemonade” and something that looked like soda. Not a cupcake in sight. Killing time with mindless eating would not be an option at this shindig.
The one activity provided for the children was butcher paper on the tables and crayons. I made a doodle. I met a couple kids. I drank some neon lemonade. Then I split. There was nothing left for me.
To that end, if you want people to stay at your baby shower for more than the obligatory 30 minutes, consider the following:
1) With regard to length. 2 hours maximum. This one was scheduled for a tedious 3. I like the idea of a short and sweet 90 minutes.
2) Delicious food. Lots of options. Baked goods. Simple non-dressed salads. Fruit. Cheese. Crudites. Readily available sweets. Warm offerings. Coffee. Tea. Iced Tea. Water. I personally prefer an elegant seated brunch.
3) Make introductions. Reign in loners. Ensure everyone feels included.
4) Create intimate seating arrangements to encourage eating, drinking, and conversation.
5) Designate a separate (but within eyeshot/earshot of helicopter parents) fun space for the kids.
6) It’s fine if you aren’t into “baby games,” but do provide some sort of entertainment or fun. Music. Dancing. Karaoke. Ice your own cupcake. Whatever. These activities start conversations and save people from dreaded awkward mingling.
7) Attentive hosting takes work, the preggo shouldn’t be hosting her own baby shower, but these two did it as a couple. Designate a host devoted to socially lubricating the shower. Mothers and mothers-in-law love this job.
I spent nearly a decade in an unfulfilling relationship I knew two weeks in had no real meaningful future. I can give you justifications and excuses for not leaving – my parents died; I got laid off; I enjoyed the financial security of the union. That’s all just weak bullshit though. My therapist likes to say that the universe doesn’t belabor situations, we do. He’s right. Recently, I’ve been kicking it with an extremely attractive man. He possesses exceptional qualities. He showed me upfront that he’s a man of principle. Unfortunately, we are both too damaged to ever make it work. A decade ago, I would have clung to our magic for dear life, hoping to stoke the flames of compatibility and extinguish the discord. Now, I know better. Even though it was hard to let such a pretty thing go, I said goodbye. I should have said goodbye a month ago when I knew for sure that we couldn’t truly partner, so I guess I still have something to learn with regard to belaboring situations. That said, progress is progress, and I am proud that instead of squandering a decade, I cut my losses after two months before deeply entangling my heart. I’m just not going to do it, try so hard to make it work. Rumpelstiltskin was always one of my favorite children’s stories, but I would rather go solo than waste anymore time spinning straw into gold.
Fuck Clarisonic. Seriously, I’m so pissed. I bought that stupid Pedi Sonic device for $200 and the motor died in less than three months. Janky ass piece of crap. I’m over Clarisonic. Clarisonic can eat a dick as far as I’m concerned.
Not all negative Nancy, I will take this moment to praise Ulta Beauty, a company not exactly world-renowned for their customer service. When I rolled in with my receipt and the pricey device, I didn’t know how they would try and play me. At first, there was talk of store credit. I kept quiet and after some manager headset chatter, I walked away with a full refund. I didn’t even have to ask. They knew. Deep down they knew that Clarisonic did me dirty. Thanks for making it right without giving me a bushel of grief Ulta.
An ex-boyfriend from 18 years ago called my work twice yesterday looking for me. He insisted on leaving his number with my assistants because he’s in my town for the weekend. I haven’t talked to this kid in at least 10 years, and we didn’t part well. I’m not sure what makes him think I want to see him. He is very accessible on the internet, so if I wanted access to him I could have had it years ago. I, on the other hand, go out of my way to keep a low profile. I don’t have a Facebook page. I clearly don’t want to be found. I have no interest in catching up with random people who orbit my life with the infrequency of Halley’s Comet. Furthermore, his approach to the situation tells me that his worst qualities have only ripened with age. He’s obviously known for quite some time that he would be in town covering a particular event. A courteous and thoughtful person would have sent an email with a little advance notice. Instead, he called my place of employment multiple times in one day like some sort of crazed stalker and just assumed I’ll be elated to drop my packed schedule to accommodate his last minute demands. Selfish much? That’s why we broke up asshole. Unfortunately, I’m going to the event on Saturday so there’s a chance we could run into each other….Ugh…I hate ex-boyfriend run-in paranoia.
I know this woman as a friendly acquaintance. I’ve posted about her before awhile ago. She’s like a human Cathy Comic. I liked her though. I think she’s smart, funny, well-meaning, and enjoyable in small doses. I’ve extended a number of invitations to her over the last year. Several months ago, she just stopped responding. I’m the last holdout on the fucking Facebook, but other friends tried to contact her though her page. She never responded, despite her FB page showing recent updated activity. She’s a single woman living alone on my side of town. Therefore, it’s partially my responsibility to make sure she didn’t die alone, and her cat wasn’t gnawing off her three-day-dead face. After multiple attempted contacts from a number of sources, finally a co-worker confirmed that Cathy Comic is fine. No illness. No tragedy. Just chronic unresponsiveness. Well fuck you human Cathy Comic. Do you know how rude it is to make people worry? Cathy Comic must be so flush with friends that she doesn’t need any more thoughtful people to care about her. Well it’s a good thing because I won’t be wasting a moment more of my concern. I’m recycling that friendship like yesterday’s newspaper. And don’t come calling when he dumps you. I don’t want to hear it. If you are late, call. If people express concern, respond. Remember that pit of anxiety that forms when you are worried about someone you love. Don’t ever recklessly give another that feeling due to your own thoughtlessness and irresponsibility. It’s fucking rude, and it makes you unworthy of the concern.
My friend had the worst day of her life today. She suffered a life-altering loss. I’m not there to hug her. We live 1400 miles apart. I have to hug her here. She’s a loyal reader. Send a little love to our girl today. She needs it. I available to you, call me anytime. Anything you need. I love you and I understand.
Hope you had a great weekend lovelies. 3 shows in 3 days + massive weekend work demands = one exhausted little dove. I’m fueled by bananas and Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Butter - a truly crackish combo. I’m awfully thrilled to welcome best pal KB back to town along with her partner. She’s a super smart lady and an exceptional friend. I look forward to all the trouble we can get into now they we’re geographically proximate.I’ve only tinted my eyelashes once seven years ago, but I’m going to try again this Friday. Loyal readers understand my personal beauty holy grail involves continually dark lashes without pesky under-eye mascara smudges.
My recent banking fiasco motivated a change in financial institutions. When the new credit union ran my credit the astonished banker said it was refreshing to see such a high credit score. To celebrate my fiscal responsibility I went shopping. In a moment of magical, mystical, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants shit, I found not one, but new three pairs of jeans. Not only did I find an unlikely triad of sexual jeans (Rag & Bone, Current/Elliott, Vigoss), but they were buy 1 get 2 free. Grateful to the Denim Gods.
Mung bean sprouts remedy constipation. Moving along…
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