My kid is turning four years old this week. The bands have all been hired, the beer truck’s parking space is marked with orange cones, and the bikini-clad ring girls are auditioning today.
The three-day affair is bringing in people from three states. People are ending their beach vacations early to come home for the shindig. Governor Mark Sanford has put the state guard on standby.
The RSVP list nearly doubled last night while you were sleeping. If you don’t know somebody, you’re going to have a hard time getting in. And don’t pull that, “I’ll just grease the rope guy” routine. My rope guy is the best in the business and once forced John Wayne and Chuck Norris to pleasure each other just for spite.
Wolfgang, Mario, and the two Mikes (Mina and Rulhphy Boy) all wanted to cater the event, but I told them it was better they take the weekend off. One (who I won’t name) screamed, “You’re not getting Flay, are you? Don’t tell me you’re going to Flay me like you did at Bradoween 4!” I assured them I would be doing all the grillin’ and chillin’ on my own. They didn’t believe me and I’m pretty sure Mario is just going to show up. Like always.
Last year, I begged the wife to not throw a party for my kid’s birthday. He was turning three at the time and thought all of his friends were imaginary. So, we had a litle family get together with the Imaginaries and called it a day. This year, neither wife nor boy would stand for a small affair. My wife, who once looked over her nose at me about my “big, out of hand parties,” went to work. Now I have to hire at least three undocumented workers and a mule to handle the coming days. Thank goodness Costco had the electric cattle prod on sale.
This is a long way of saying, I don’t expect to be writing much in the next few days. I have to get some papers for the wait staff, a rope for the rope guy, and some tranquilizers for the wife. I may Twitter a bit (see link at top left), but all in all, I expect to be rather unplugged for a few days. Well, unplugged except for the cattle prod.