Tea Party in Hell

Picture it: me.....in First Baptist Church hell.

Ok....it was actually a bridal shower.

But it may as well have been the "fellowship hall" of Hell's First Baptist Church .

I know this because in my other life I was a member.

All right.....all right....stop laughing and keep reading.

Anyway.....this past Saturday afternoon I sucked it up (after much bitching), washed my hair, put on some make-up and some clothes that I haven't worn since I worked full-time, and took my ass to the bridal shower for the daughter of a colleague of Sweet Man's.

"Why?" You ask.....

Only because this colleague had come to a bridal shower for Gabelle. Who now owes me, by the way.

As I pull up in front of the house, I notice that none of the cars already parked in the long semi-circular drive-way or on the street were cute like mine. These were all "old lady" looking sedans in boring colors with a few SUVs dotted among them.

Bad sign.

I should have kept going.

I'm met at the door by one of the seven hostesses (who I later learned were all members of the mother-of-the-bride's bridge club.....another bad sign....people still play bridge?) who herds me and a few other guests straight to the guest book in a corner of the foyer, and from there directly into a large formal dining room.

I was actually looking forward to this part.

Food at these things is usually good.

Um....not this time.

On the beautifully appointed table were two cakes, a small plate of fresh strawberries and another small plate of cheese straws. For drinks, we had a choice of raspberry iced tea, coffee or water.

WTF?!?

These seven bitches could only come up with two cakes and a few strawberries?!?!?

Where was the table laden with finger foods that I was expecting??!?

"Well, shit!", I thought to myself as I looked for the plate with the biggest slice of seven layer chocolate cake, "I got dressed up for this?"

Next, we were led into a huge family room-slash-kitchen where we sat in a semi-circle and watched as the bride-to-be tore into a massive pile of gifts while trying not to untie any of the ribbons decorating the boxes (don't ask).

There were so many women packed into this room that they had to bring in folding chairs.

I did a quick look around and determined that the medium age of the attendees had to be 60.

I hadn't been surrounded by this much polyester, bad hairstyles and SAS shoes since the 80's.

At this point, I considered excusing myself early due to my allergy to poor fashion choices, but I wanted to finish my cake first.

I shouldn't have worried. These "hostesses" apparently had this bridal shower shit down to a science.

They had us "fed", the gifts opened and us out of there in an hour.

I know.

I was surprised too.

But mostly relieved.

I drove as fast as I could to my favorite barbeque place for some real food.

Damn cheap ass Baptist bitches!


*editor's note* No actual Baptists were insulted in the posting of this entry.