Blogflogged and Birthdays

Cindy Holby "blog-flogged" me on the teen chicklit loop for not updating this thing in so long. I admit it. I've been so wrapped up in life, I've let it slide. I'll try to be more faithful. :)

Tonight is Activity Director's birthday party. The one weekend of the year she does not get to pick what we do. Instead, Mr. Activity Director (aka Andy) throws a surprise party. Because he does it every year, it's not a complete surprise, to say the least. And the big joke is he always waits til the very last minute to plan it. He did well this year - he made initial calls on Tuesday. There have been years where he didn't start planning til Thursday night. He's learning. And everyone else has learned to just set aside the Sat night before Mary's birthday, knowing at least SOMETHING will be planned.

My other theory is that maybe Andy knows WAY in advance what he's going to do and just doesn't inform me as he knows Mary will badger me for weeks for scoop on what he's planning and what she should wear if she thinks I know something. And as an Investigative TV News Producer, she can be a scary interrogator. I admit I've been known to cave under the pressure.

Anyway - since I can't talk about what we're doing tonight (Don't think she wouldn't check the blog!!) I'll tell you about last year's party. It was at Jake Ivory's, which is this dueling piano bar on Landsdown Street. A cool spot, except it turned out they didn't serve food. So none of the 30 or so guests had anything to eat. They did, however, have plenty to drink and that combo made for an extremely drunken evening. Me being one very suspeptible to getting wasted on an empty stomach, and Mary, being very suspeptible to getting wasted in general, were in rare form. (According to my ex, who at the time, wasn't drinking, and watched the whole event unfold completely sober, poor guy. He said it wasn't the not-drinking that was the problem, it was all the drunk people coming up to him and saying, "You must hate being around us sober. We must be so annoying, huh?" over and over again.)

Anyway - Mary and I love to dance so we hit the dance floor. And near the end of the evening, Mary thought her husband was behind her, dancing, too. So being a fun, loving wife, she decided to do a little backwards dip into his arms. Very romantic. He, unfortunately, had gone over to talk to his friend and wasn't actually anywhere near her. She dipped and then dipped further, losing her balance and falling onto the dance floor. She scrambled to her feet saying she hurt her wrist. It was nearly 2am at this point and the boys decided they needed to get us home.

On the cab ride back, Mary was crying and saying over and over she thought she broke her wrist. I was like, "No way. There's no way anyone can break their wrist on the dance floor. You're just drunk. Go to sleep."

Well, Mary will never let me live down the fact that I didn't believe her. Luckily Andy is a better husband than I am friend. Or maybe she just wore him down. Anyway, he took her to the emergency room and sure enough, somehow she'd managed to break her wrist on the dance floor and was in a cast six weeks.

Anyway - hopefully this bash will be just as fun, but less eventful and require no trips to the emergency room. I'll give you the 411 tomorrow.

Mar