If you read below, you'll see that we had a wild party on Sunday, April 14, 2013. We've also got it on tape and a few of the stories that were read. Below is the invitation.Well we've all been through some crap, so it's time to laugh it all off. So I have put together a party. I need you to FOCUS on the information and instructions so you do not get confused. Okay? Are you with me?
Here we go:
1. The name andtheme of the party is: GUESS WHAT THE DAMN HELL HAPPENED TO ME!
2. Location: The Redstone Grill in the Plymouth Meeting Mall, You know by Dave and Busters. Itis NOT inside the mall and there is parking.
3. The time is 3:00 p.m. (We have to be out of the place by 5:45 p.m.)
4. The date is Sunday, April 14, 2013
5. I am not picking up this tab. This is not a working lunch or meeting for my books and itis nobody's birthday party. So, get your wallets out and I am sorry we are all dealing with the recession. We are getting one bill and we are splitting it.Okay. Drinks and dessert--soup to nutz. Divided up. I do not want anybody crying that Joe Blow ate 14 appetizers and drank 4 beers and I only had a breadstick. Got it?
6. We have a private room and it holds 23 people.
7. We are doing the guest list on an RSVP basis. When we are at 23 people, we have to close the party.
8. Do not get dressed up. Be casual and comfortable.
Here is the way the event will be. FUN!!!!
Sort of a VENT party. You have to tell a story. You have to type the story. Do not hand write WHAT THE DAMN HELL HAPPENED TO YOU. Got it? Turn your story in to me or bring it with you the day of the party. I will not cheat and read it. I, too, want to have fun and be surprised. It will go in a box and be numbered. Guests of the party will get to choose a number of a story (you won't know your number). We will be going around the room and everyone gets to pick a number. The person who picks your number will read your story and vice verso for you. Ten minute read tops so do not write a novel. Okay. They will stand a read your story. Everyone will be quiet and listen to WHAT THE DAMN HELL HAPPENED TO YOU. Do not put your name on your story. Try not to put anything in the story that a person there with us can identify you by it. You can identify yourself after it is read. Okay. You got that? Once you identify yourself, the gift you brought you can present to the person who read your story. You can Email your story to me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Do not make a face when the person is reading your story. You will give yourself away.
The Gift You Buy: You are to purchase something from a store and it CANNOT cost over $20. I also mean, if you find something that cost $400 and it is on sale, and it cost $19.99, you can buy it. Have it wrapped. You can get anything you like. If a man gets nightgown--he's stuck with it or he can barter or try to exchange with another person. You can get an animal gift, wine, beer, earrings, a food item, a picture frame, a book, dog food, a game, a household item, a kid's toy, socks--anything other than a gift certificate. Use your imagination. You guys can put receipt with the gift so person can return it. Try t get a unisex gift. There were some great gifts given at the last party. Very creative. You can also buy different things that total $20.
Write about whatever or whomever you like. Who took your money? Hate your boss, mother in law or do you love them all? Tell us your secret. You got a pet you want to talk about? Have you traveled to an exotic place or have an exotic experience? Who is very interesting to you? What situation has pissed you off? What is the funniest thing that ever happened to you? Who is your best friend? Why are you embarrassed? Are you trying to accomplish something that’s not working out or do you have a health problem? What are you the worst at? Do you have a hero? What do you do really well? Is somebody making you feel really good these days? Are you sad? What have you taken on that is simply too much and you want to throw in the towel? Who has your stuff? Who loves you a whole lot? What is the dumbest thing you ever did? Who’s the dumbest person you ever did? Have you had some good luck you want to share? Have you met any nuts lately?
Well, people, just pick a topic and write yourself up. We’ll be listening on Sunday, April 14, 2013 at 3:00 p.m.
I think all of us need to have some fun.
Whoever is not interested. You know I won’t be mad.
Bye Everyone. I love you all.
If you think you are gonna get lost, be at my house by 2:30 in the afternoon.
Take care and be safe.
405 Wick Lane
Blue Bell, PA 19422
P.S. Please let me know one way or the other and don’t play around.
Do not RSVP and not show up because I will act up with you.
If you are bringing someone with you, let me know.
Here Are a Few of the Stories Told at the Party
IN MEXICO FOR THE WINTER
I was married to a really super woman for a really long time. She and I used to run races together. Like 5K and 10K and half marathons. My wife was a better runner than I am. She had discipline to train regularly. She had a natural talent. Her pile of medals show this. Her ability was probably because her parents were Mexican. A genetic test at Johns Hopkins Hospital showed that she had the genes to be a super performer. But that’s another story.
She died seven years ago. My spirits sagged. I cried a lot. But after a time I regained my spirits and began thinking about dating. I found an attractive woman and we dated for a year or more. But she never really was the one, if you know what I mean. She had problems that my wife never had: like a bad back, allergies to certain foods, perfumes, moldy cheeses, feather pillows, wool blankets. You have to feel sorry for people with these conditions.
Well, I tried to accommodate her problems by buying a new blanket, removing the comforter from my bed, using no after shave or shaving soap, carefully inquiring the waiter before ordering “Does this dish have any aged cheese?”. At motels the beds had to be remade with non-allergenic materials. But the one thing I could not get around was her bad back. A good back is a wonderful thing and you don’t want to lose it. So exercise and workout. But I digress.
We eventually broke up. But that old desire to begin dating resurfaced. My wife and I went to college in San Jose with another couple. They lived in upper NY state. They retired and spent winters in Mexico. He passed away a year before my wife. I thought I might like to winter in Mexico and I called my friend to ask if she still went to Mexico for the winter. She did. I asked if she would show me around the town to see if I would like to be there for three months. She said she would like to do that. Now we aren’t romantically involved and I did not want to make the situation romantic. So I stayed in the town for a week in 2012, a year ago. I was there during St. Patties day. There was a really fun party at one of the local bars. There was a huge band that played American Jazz, Latin Dance music and one or two Mexican oldies. There were people there of all races, nationalities, and cultures. Everyone was having a great time with fine booze, music and a lovely evening outside. I thought to myself … WOW! This is really great! Great drinks, music and several nice ladies that I would like to meet. This is the place for me next year for sure.
So this year I rented a single bedroom apartment for three months. The price was very reasonable. It seemed like all I had to do is wait for the parties to begin. Well as it turned out the town was full of retired Canadians and Americans whose main activities were cards and dominos. Don’t get me wrong these are OK but I am just not quite ready for these kind of games yet… not quite yet. There were no fantastic drunken parties with luscious ladies either.
So I am here pissing and moaning about my Mexican stay that could have been done much cheaper in my home town at the Senior Center.
My Mother Liked To Clean
It was our 3rd date. We were at a rock concert at a large venue and a sold out show. During intermission, I waited in the long line to go to the bathroom. I rushed in did my thing, washed my hands and went back to my seat.
It was the dead of winter and for the next two weeks we were seeing a lot of each other. Then I got a call. I was being questioned gently. They wanted to know if I had a pubic itch. I admitted I did but had been ignoring it, thought it was no big deal. Could have been tight jeans or hotel soap. They informed me that they had “checked their wife’s underwear, looking for “spots.” I was puzzled and knew he was married.
They told me to go through my underwear to check for blood spots because they had found none in his wife’s hamper. He had gone thought her underwear. Nothing there.
At this time in my life I was living at home with my mother, who was an obsessively clean person, body wise and her best friends were Lysol, Pine Oil Mr. Clean, laundry detergent, bleach and mops and brooms.
I told my date that I would look through my underwear and call him back. I found the blood spotted underwear. I’d never noticed it and never seen anything like that in my life. Tiny red speckles of blood. I immediately called him back with the news.
“You have crabs, Honey?” “I’m itching, too.”
I quickly explained that I hadn’t had any crabs since the summer, that I really loved them but I’d never found any in the winter. I wondered why he was changing the subject from underwear and itching. He said “Honey, I’m not talking about the ones you eat. These are bugs. He had to explain it all to me.
I was blown away and we went through all my moves over the last few weeks. Then I remembered that bathroom at the concert and my being so tired that I sat on the toilet. He told me what to do, that I needed some Blue Ointment. In the snow I trudged up to the drug store and bought this stuff. I came home and was in the bathroom with it. Had to get in the tub.
My mother came in to do something and saw me soaking and the ointment on the sink. The woman went berserk! Pulled out all that bleach and the rest of her cleaning solution. She cleaned and told me told me off for days on end.
That was many, many years ago and my date married me. I have never sat down on a public toilet since.
Escapades of a Rescue Dog
Rescue dogs are a blessing. They come to you with a second chance in life. That said, they come with some very interesting challenges. Our previous dog, had died about 10 months prior. The house was empty without a canine friend. It takes a while to decide to fill that space. I finally found a very pretty foxhound mix at the SPCA.
He was big, 50 pounds but at 10 months old he wouldn’t grow much more if any. What many people forget about a large 10 month old dog is that this is still in the realm of puppy dom. Between 14 and 16 months a dog that seemed to have learned how to become reasonably civil will soon approach the teenage years of life. Some chewing and nipping may reappear and must be dealt with just like this rascal was a new puppy. It doesn’t last long but it can be less endearing than the expected good canine citizen status at which your dog had arrived.
Although this dog had been named Hunter, he should have been called Sneaky Pete. Suddenly at that magic 14 to 16 months Hunter had decided he thought it was a good idea to hunt for items of clothing he could liberate from my daughter’s room. His frequent item of choice: Victoria Secret bras. According to the vet the synthetic materials have an irresistible scent for some dogs. Who knew? Is that actually Victoria’s Secret?
At any rate, Sneaky Pete, would listen and wait for my daughter to go to the bathroom. With less than a fleeting glance at me he would rush from the first floor and launch into her room. Sneaky Pete would take any item he could. He would wait for the sound of the bathroom door opening. Then the chase downstairs for a four-legged joker and outraged human was on! The dog found this game quite joyful. It was certainly more fun than taking an item when nobody was watching, even if the chewing was a happiness uninterrupted.
The solution, of course, for the targeted human was quite simple. Close your bedroom door. Common sense, yes? Now I must admit to being a tad thriftier than my offspring and rarely buy Victoria Secret apparel. Well about two weeks later I hear “You owe me bras, I only have one left. The dog ate all the other ones.”
Thinking they must have been tossed on the floor, I said “Well, where were they?” The response: “In my drawer.” My response? “The dog cannot open your drawer” She said “I know, I know I leave it open.” Yes it’s true, I still rarely buy Victoria Secret apparel, and it didn’t change then. Ah, life has such harsh life lessons for some of us who choose to live with a rescue dog!
History plays an important part of my story as it has been handed down from one generation to the next I was born into a family of pranksters who continue the tradition of playing tricks on each other and testing who has the best prank to play on the next.You may know that they say, "Friends are forever, " but "friends can be your worst enemies." The greatest prank that I can remember is not the shorted bed sheets at a summertime resort while going on a special date with a voluptuous young lady, the ordering of a specialty food on an airline, or the cancelation of reservations at a fancy eatery after looking forward to it for months. No the topper is the one my "friends played on me."Known at times for putting things in piles, of papers and objects---I was always organizing the disorganized and looking for lost items in the piles of piles, or leaving my wallet in disarray. My friends decided to take me out for my twenty-first birthday celebration and to "choose only the best!' It was a Friday night my three friends and I were driven in a limo to a restaurant where they were picking up all the bills. We entered and sat down at the "special table" adorned with various historical memorabilia, which had been collected over the twenty-one years of our short lifetime. Manystories were shared and recanted about the lives we shared together. As the "soup to nuts" evening evolved, we drank various drinks, devoured appetizers, main courses, desserts and anything else our hearts desired. It was a wonderful evening, I kept telling my buds how lucky I was to have them as friends. Al1 night long they kept it flowing and I was glowing in the company of my good friends. The next day, after my headache subsided, I made it a point to write a note of thanks to each one. Later, I called them to again tell them what a wonderful birthday I had enjoyed, and how lucky I was to have them as friends. All they did was to brush off the comments. The party was over, but about three weeks later I would realize what had happened. It came in the mail. I opened the MasterCard bill I saw a bill in excess of $1500.00. I immediately got on the phone and called the MasterCard people..."I don't know how this bill is so high, I wasn't at any of these places..." I need information on the spending-" Then, it dawned on me.... Oh Shit....I was dooped-----they got me. On the end of the line the MasterCard operator was very concerned about my comment and she wondered what she had done. Once I explained and we both had a laugh.
She said, "I guess it was a Happy Birthday!! You've have been played!
By the way, I no longer keep my credit card out and I don't don't leave home without it!"
I paid some creditors and I was told that once it was paid and satisfied, that it would say that on my credit report. Well, to make a long story short, I paid and my credit still says NOT SATISFIED. It's been three months and I am so pissed about them telling me lies and messing with my credit. I guess that's the way of the world.
She was so excited. For the first time in three months she was going on a date, yay!
Jermaine was a police officer in a Philadelphia suburb. They met at a friend's house warming party and had talked on the phone religiously every night the week before their date.
She was so excited to go out, single for the past two years she was hoping Jermaine would be the guy who really turned things around for her. He told her was going to surprise her on the date. He would make all the plans and pick her up that evening. She spent hours agonizing over what to wear. She decided on a simple black dress, tan leather boots and a suede coat she had recently bought from Express but really couldn't afford. When she walked out to his car, she felt like a million dollars.
When she got out to the car, she felt confused because he didn't get out and open the door for her. She just figured she was old fashion and too demanding. She swung the car door open and plopped in the front seat. She asked him where they were going and told him she was excited. He told her he figured they'd have dinner first. He said he was going to drive out to Main Street and find a place to eat. He drove around for a while and then parked the car in a Wendy's parking lot. She asked him what they were doing there. He said they were there to eat. She couldn't believe it. She was all dressed up. She wanted to just to go through the drive through but he insisted that they go inside and eat. She hadn't eaten inside of Wendy's since she was a teenager.
They got some trays and sat down. She couldn't believe she was eating inside Wendy's in her 5300 coat and her feet sticking to the floor. They finally finished their food.
They got back in the car and she asked him what he was planning to do with her on their date. He said that he thought they could go back to his place and "hang out" and watch movies. She asked him to take her home. He kept calling her every day after the date, leaving voicemails about what a great time he had. She never answered and they never spoke again.