Wondering about Jake's second birthday party?
Not like at Jake's first birthday party, where 4 guests had their stomachs pumped, 2 had to be catheterized, and 5 woke up with a tattoo of a penis across their chin. Or Jake's baby shower, where animal control was called 3 times, 2 local high school principals lost their jobs the next day, and a parachute inexplicably failed to open, resulting in 14 broken bones and an embarrassing loss of bladder and bowel control that's still talked about in the neighborhood to this day. And not like our our 2006 family Christmas party, which ended with one dead hooker and a lengthy court trial that made national news, or our 2005 family Christmas party, after which Aunt Bessie spent months in the hospital receiving skin grafts to her pelvic region and buttocks. No, this party was a textbook example of how a 2-year old's party should go, right down to the balloons and Blue's Clues birthday cake.
Yes, we had it, and it was an unqualified success. I think you know the standards by which I measure party success, but if not, I'll remind you by giving you this glowing statistic: The exact same number of people left as arrived--25 adults and 14 kids--proving that you can come to a party at Chez Karlababble and leave alive and unharmed, and in more or less the same physical health as when you arrived. It can happen! It's only happened this once so far, but it's a good start to a new beginning.
Not like at Jake's first birthday party, where 4 guests had their stomachs pumped, 2 had to be catheterized, and 5 woke up with a tattoo of a penis across their chin. Or Jake's baby shower, where animal control was called 3 times, 2 local high school principals lost their jobs the next day, and a parachute inexplicably failed to open, resulting in 14 broken bones and an embarrassing loss of bladder and bowel control that's still talked about in the neighborhood to this day. And not like our our 2006 family Christmas party, which ended with one dead hooker and a lengthy court trial that made national news, or our 2005 family Christmas party, after which Aunt Bessie spent months in the hospital receiving skin grafts to her pelvic region and buttocks. No, this party was a textbook example of how a 2-year old's party should go, right down to the balloons and Blue's Clues birthday cake.
The implications are frightening--can it be that I'm becoming more June Cleaver than Courtney Love all of a sudden? If so, what's next? PTA meetings, playgroups, volunteer charity work? Selling Mary Kay, hosting baby showers, buying Girl Scout cookies? Might I actually, against all predictions, live to an old age? Might Jake actually have a shot at a normal life, and a hope of staying out of foster homes and social workers' offices? Might Brian have a chance of not becoming another tragic suicide statistic? Can I really--do you think?--become a Respectable Citizen? Suddenly it seems like there's hope for me, and if that's the case, hope for all of us. Yes, even you, Dyckerson, because if I can turn wholesome and vanilla, anyone can--even a total degenerate like you. Well, almost anyone--not you, Common Wombat. Some of us may be on a path to our new destiny as pillars of our community, local leaders and heroes, but rest assured, you're still on your same old path of being found dead in a pool of someone else's vomit, wearing nothing but a pair of ladies cotton panties with the price tag still on them. You're a lost cause, but me? I'm on my way up, baby.
25 comments:
I can't speak for your other loyal followers, but I am totally on-board with the idea. After all, how can we have another Jonestown without you at least attempting to keep up with the Joneses?
So if this bold new direction has you on the "beset on all sides" path of righteousness, then lead the way. Because I for one will be right behind you, machete in hand, drinkin' the Koolaid.
My great uncle worked on the set of Leave It To Beaver. He says Barbara Billingsly was a ritualistic cannibal who used to lure midget actors into her trailer with promises of non-elf-related work.
So, yeah, you're a little more June Cleaver.
I think I remember hearing about that baby shower on the news. It reminded me of my cousin's bat mitzvah. Ah, good times.
I'm more like Courtney Love dressed up like June Cleaver. Despite my best efforts I'll never change.
Oh, the play date. I remember my first like it was yesterday. All those screaming kids, and me walking around pointing at my son, saying, "I'm with him."
So much shame. So much shame.
Oh No, she's becoming....SUPER MOMMY!!!
Protector of the blankey ;)
Why the hell wasn't I invited to this shindig?? I could've entertained the kids with balloon animals...which I make with my used prophylactics.
(BTW, I liked you better when you were a skanky ho.)
Thanks for your compliment and your comment! It means a lot! And congrats on a successful party!!
My wife wants to start planning our Jake's first birthday party in March. Any pointers?
"you're still on your same old path of being found dead in a pool of someone else's vomit"
Oh God.
Motherhood...who knew...
Just wait until you totally loose your identity when you are the mother of a school aged child....
The PTA really is a cult...
Being found dead in a pool of someone else's vomit is top five on my list of ways I want it all to end.
It's right up there with the diet pill induced heart attack and the smoking while over the age of 35 and on birth control stroke.
Oh, and falling victim to the four-hour Viagra erection...that one's at the top of my list. Of course.
Your guests may leave the house with no physical damage to their bodies, but expect the mental trauma they've experienced will take years of therapy. It's their own fault though. You'd think after all the other parties they'd been warned or something.
You're still going to sell crack to toddlers, though, right?
Wait... you had a dead hooker at your Christmas party too??? Crazy!
I kid, I kid! (Or do I?)
Anyway, it sounds like a rousing success, and now you have a full year to prepare for the next one!
Since you are now respectable, perhaps you could contact the White House and let them know that change CAN happen. Come on use your powers for good.
uhhhh...whatever dude...just because no one got the clap at your son's birthday party don't make you better than me.
And for the record, the price tag was still on so that you all would know that I earns my money and I spends it like a Hilton.
Better June Cleaver than Carol Brady, right? The hair was BAD.
Hi! I just saw over at dyckerson's that you guys are engaged, so I wanted to say congrats! you really picked a winner in that one! ;)
No dude, I've seen/been traumatized by your gingerbread house. You really have nothing to worry about, re: June Cleaver.
Dyckerson: I had you on the guest list, but scratched your name off when I got that report from the Bureau of Sex Offenders.
Flounder: Just one--don't invite Dyckerson. He'll be there either way--look for the white van parked across the street. But you'll come off better to the investigating officers if you can at least say you didn't invite him there.
tfg: Sell crack to toddlers? Jesus Christ--there really is something wrong with you, isn't there? I would NEVER sell crack to toddlers. That would be stupid. Toddlers don't have any money--you have to look for kids age 8 and up, who have started receiving an allowance. No wonder you live in a run-down trailer--no understanding of simple economics.
Beth: I did NOT marry Dyckerson. I can't get past his boyfriend long enough to even hold his hand.
Chebbles' Mama: I knew someone was going to bring up that fucking gingerbread house.
Whew! Someone else brought up the gingerbread house!
Then all I can say "A belated Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours.
OMG-Not only have you made Jake's birthday party all about YOU [and its a good thing you did] because if not, it would all be about Jake-and the question is, could you handle that?
You can do the Mary Kay thing, the Girl Scout cookies, even the charity work. But stay the hell away from PTA meetings. Things are never that bad. Trust me on that one.
Is there no happy middle ground, like where you get into town painting now and then, just to keep your hand in?
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