This one goes out to the ladeez
Thursday night I was set to go out with my good friend Anjie for a little tête à tête over a plate of pad see ew, when she called me up to say that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it. From the minute the words left her mouth, I was formulating a plan to do something, anything else to get out of the house. I was already half dressed, the responsibility of washing the grime from my children’s necks and feet had been delegated elsewhere, and most importantly, I had showered. And by God, I wasn’t going to waste the five minutes I spent with that hairdryer on sitting around watching downloaded episodes of Big Love. Huh-uh, I was going OUT. I was mentally running through a list of who might be available on short notice for a bite to eat/cup of coffee/drive around the block, when Anjie cryptically said “…so just get in the car with your sister at 6:40 and go where she takes you.” First: what? Second: Right. This is a girl I once convinced that the way to cure a bad headache was to ram the fleshy part of your palm straight into the center of your forehead. Get in a car and do whatever she says? FAT CHANCE, SISTER VENDETTA.
But like I said, I was desperate to leave, and curiosity got the better of me, so I let my sister take me (LIKE A LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER) to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed event involving an undisclosed number of undisclosed people. It was a lot of undisclosure.
I do want to pause and say right here that of course my brain went into overdrive trying to figure out why the hell there would even be a secret event occurring right now. It’s not my birthday, L was up to his elbows in neck and toe grimed suds when we left with no obvious relief team in sight, so Valentine’s day was not looking like the probable cause, and beyond that, all I could think of that warranted any celebrating was the fact that I returned all our nine-gazillion
Snoozefest Facts About Dinosaurs books back to the library on time. Although, no, our fines are keeping the lights on over there, so they were probably pretty bummed when I showed up and crammed all that mess in the slot right on the due date.
And also, pause from the pause, let it be known that in my lifetime I have been surprised with no less than SEVEN PARTIES, holy cow. Which always made me feel really special and loved until I mentioned it to a friend who said, “Whoa. Your friends must think you’re really gullible and unobservant.” Which I hadn’t considered until then THANKS FOR KILLING THE DREAM.
And to top it all off, as I was fretting over what to wear to Who Knows What with Who Knows Who, my other good friend Rebekah called me, and let me tell you, if my life were some movie where I killed someone and served them up as barbecue in my restaurant to hide the body and I had to pick one of my friends to lie for me convincingly enough on the stand so that I might escape capital punishment, before this phone call I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have picked Rebekah. Because in all the time I’ve known her, which is over half my life, it does not seem to me that she has been sufficiently devious and or deceitful to be up to the task. (No hard feelings Rebekah, I know you’d help me hide the body) But ho ho HO, do I retract that decision now! She was all casual and cool, chatting me up about her day and what she was going to be doing that evening, and did not once mention that she was in fact at that very moment AT the Party of Undisclosure! What chicanery! Later, after the jig was up and I had a bit of margarita (hell yes the Party of Undisclosure included margaritas…but I’ll get to that in a minute) I may or may not have drunkenly told her that now I questioned everything she’d ever told me. Because I know how to thank a friend!
So! The big reveal was that Undisclosed Place was one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, and Undisclosed People were seven of my friends who had been secretly planning a celebration for me for weeks because of Undisclosed Reason: my column in Ruckus comes out in two weeks. HOW AWESOME IS THAT.
Answer: so totally, totally awesome.
There was a giant margarita sitting at my place when I walked in, ready for swilling, and I was given several gifts, including chocolate from Jill, and tiny writing tablets and some pencils from Suzanne, so that I can scrawl down whatever asinine thoughts I have whenever I have them and be able to reference them later when I want to transcribe them here. Posts are about to reach a whole new level of random, thanks to Suzanne.
And of course (OF COURSE) I had to go and post this the day before my party (that I didn’t know about!) in which I moaned and complained about being tired of being around women all the freaking time, which then all seven of my women friends who had “Girl’s Night Out for Rachel!!” on their calendars read. But they didn’t even cancel it! That’s how awesome they are!
Instead, they manned up:
…and threw me a great celebration. Which I thoroughly enjoyed, down to the very last lime-flavored drop.
I pondered aloud several times how I could possibly deserve a night like this, until finally my girl Allen shut me up with what I consider now to be the theme of the night: “Look, we wouldn’t be here if you sucked.”
So, to Anjie (one of the main masterminds), Rebekah, Allen, Suzanne, Jill, Morgan, Kara, and ok, fine, Sister Sarah Vendetta (kidding! smooches!): thanks for making me feel incredibly celebrated. It was an honor to have such amazing, lovely, generous women tell me with margaritas in their hands and mustaches on their upper lips that I don’t suck.
Right back atcha, ladies.