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Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2002-03-26 - 5:12 p.m. It was a leopard spotted, zebra striped, apologetic pig Bridal showers. A ritualistic torture device usually involving filmy dresses, horrible games and fruit salad. Think about it. In what world is it fun to put on panty hose on a weekend and sit around someone's house eating dry sugar cookies? And, on top of that, you're usually forced to play games like 'rearrange the bride and groom's names to make children names', 'make a wedding dress out nothing but toilet paper', and 'come up with characteristics describing the bride using the letters of her name'. There's also a lot of wacky games involving clothespins and trading junk in your purses. And then there's the dress code issue. Guys can wear slacks, tie and sports coat and quickly adapt from formal to casual in a way that lets you skate through everything but black tie affairs. Chicks do not have it this easy. Figuring out the unspoken dress code for bridal showers is it's own special problem. If I wear a skirt, I could be overdressed. If I wear slacks, I could be underdressed. A suit is almost assuredly too much, church clothes maybe a bit too formal - a sundress is probably your best bet, but only covers you for summer functions. And if everyone else is in slacks you look overdressed. Then, once waste twenty minutes in front of your closet guessing at the dress code, you arrive and sit around in a circle waiting for the hostess to drag you through food, shower games and cake. The entire time, the bride is the center of attention and people intently listen to her, talk to her. She must pay kind attention to each guest, even when her eyes are glazing over. All wedding details must be discussed for the purposes of second guessing her choice of flowers/fabrics/menu/caterer/time of day�. The overly frosted cake is the trigger for 'golly, I can leave soon,' cause you've had about enough after having toilet paper wrapped around your sundress. And somewhere along the way, you paste all the ribbons onto a paper plate for the bride to wear as a hat during her wedding rehearsal. No wonder people bring gifts. If there wasn't good loot, brides would bolt. Do you know why grooms don't get bridal showers? They haven't suffered enough. They haven't paid their toilet paper reindeer game dues in order to deserve a gift fest of their own. We had a bridal shower for TJ on Saturday at my house, and, we didn't do any of the above.
Me: Okay, most Southern bridal showers involve tea, great-aunts and filmy dresses. TJ: (shudder) Let's NOT do that. Jeans, girls. (Sigh of audible relief from the guests). Kyna and I made a real lunch. No sugar cookies and jello fruit salad. Nope, Kymber assembled homemade spring rolls for a couple hours while I put together roast chicken, pasta and salad.
Sorry! Purposefully tears the next one. The only shower game we played was twenty minutes of comparing the worst bridal shower experiences ever, which made TJ immensely grateful we weren't doing any of that. Of course, we kept the present part of the program. Now, I have to admit, we did succumb to having a theme. Everyone was asked to bring a gift representing a particular continent (which turned out to be an educational experience as the guests who drew South America tried to figure out if tequila counted - it's Mexican, sorry, counts as North America). There were lovely gifts such as the luxurious bath products, silk scarves and pearls, the crystal ice bucket for Antarctica, cookbook from Spain, and the adorable giraffe napkin rings. Then, there was Kyna who bought some nice gifts, but accented them with toucans on a stick, toy animals and a stretchy lizards. (Hostess note: Distributing pointing objects on a stick around a party is always dangerous - it doesn't matter if they're shaped like tropical birds. But we only broke one of the stretchy lizards toes.) The best ungift was from TJ's mom, who originally drew Australia and actually found a place on the net selling (brace yourselfs) pouches made of tanned kangaroo scrotums. Finally, there was my gift. I drew Africa and I found a piggy bank, about the size of your head. Its front half is leopard spotted; its back half is zebra striped and it looks appropriately apologetic about its entire appearance. It's strangely adorable. I was hoping TJ would forgive me, because it was just irrestible. I came out of the kitchen from cutting cake to find TJ balancing the pig on her head. Mikhail (the groom) loves it. It's been dubbed the War Pig, receptacle of loose change towards Pennsic costs. I deem the party a success because people stayed for hours. Usually, after the torture of the games involving toilet paper, people are desperate to leave within two to three hours, but people hung out for four or five hours. Could've been the entertainment of reading my hostess gift "The White Trash Cookbook" which featured recipes beginning "Take a cooter and a hatchet �" (Thanks Gen.) Probably what just the entertainment of hanging out with good friends. So, in the words of Amina, who drove from Pennsylvania Hey, this did *not* suck. Post your favorite wedding shower experiences in the guestbook. � � � 
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