Fundraiser, Shmundraiser Part Deux
|"Jubilance, dear. We're going for jubilance. Quit looking like someone who just ate bad clams."|
Me: Guess what this year's fundraiser theme is???!!!
John: (sighing and closing his eyes) I dunno, what?
Me: It's (insert theme)!!! Isn't it great?! I have the PERFECT costumes for us!!!
John: (wincing) Do we have to?
|How it all began.|
This year the theme was Vegas. I quickly vetted and sifted through the many (many!) ideas--the slot machine addicted tourist with a bedazzled kitten sweatshirt and matching fanny pack was so close, but the Euro-trash-tastic couple won out. Spoiler alert: showing some skin and sporting heels is usually how I get John on board--that and he doesn't have a choice.
I'm a firm believer in the dictum, "work smarter, not harder." So, naturally, I'm recycling old Halloween costumes from 10 years ago when we went as "Eurotrash." Because this isn't my first rodeo, I try on the costume the night before only to find that time has NOT been kind to my waistline or my costume.
Cut to Saturday morning, I'm rushing past John who is on the roof, cleaning out the rain gutters. He reminds me of my "promise to help him." I remind him that it's the day of the fundraiser and I don't have a costume for tonight. We are at T minus 6 hours, here! Where are his priorities? Honestly.
What was supposed to be a one stop, thirty minute chore has turned into a 2 hour panic stroll through the mall. But then, the Forever 21 gods smile upon me, the clouds part and I stumble upon a black spandex bodysuit that says "Taken." You would have thought I discovered the rest of the Dead Sea Scrolls with the amount of pride and joy I had over this find.
|Yes. Just Yes.|
"Car's in the shop, can you come get me...and take me to pick up my car??"
Some might say to themselves, "Meh, too much trouble, I'll do my own hair and make-up, thanks."
Not this someone. No. Way. The stakes are too high. I've come this far and I'm going all the way. That and I STILL can't do a "smokey eye" to save my life. Not to mention, who will do the contouring make up for John's jawline? Did I mention I also have fake eyelashes to apply?!
"I'll be right there. :)"
"But your bidding number is on your name tag," I'm reminded.
"My what? Oh. Right. I'll just use John's."
Speaking of bidding, I need a drink. We cruise past the silent auction items on our way to the bar. I'm simply not liquored up enough to bid $300 on tennis lessons...yet.
|I could really see this working as a wedding theme...|
I'm so busy basking in the social aspect of the fundraiser that I kinda forget to bid on stuff. John and I each place a bid on two separate items, mine is a deluxe limited edition Clarisonic package. I actually kinda really want this item, but in an effort to catch up to everyone else who are like 4 drinks in, I don't get the memo that the bidding has closed and I'm out-bid...by a teacher. This makes me think twice about donating to the "teacher pay raise fund" later on. #Sorrynotsorry.
John bid on a 5 ft. tall wooden ruler. Y'know for the kids. I start begging people to please bid against him.
Halfway through I realize two things, 1) feather boas are really, really itchy and 2) I only had tortilla chips and peanut m&ms for lunch. My cocktails have quickly metabolized and I'm having a hard time answering questions like, "What kind of pasta would you like?" Which incidentally is what pulls me out of the abyss. That and the rest of the potato, garlic bread, cupcake carb fest I partake in.
I quickly regain control of my faculties and just in time too. The live auction is about to start and I like to be the sober bystander/gawker as I watch all the drunk wealthy people bid against themselves for $3,000.00 parking spots. Our first fundraiser was filled with uncomfortable silent looks to each other during the live auction, but now it's kind of like my favorite reality TV show. By far, the best line of the night was from the auctioneer who said something like "Hey, you're bidding against yourself, but you're also flipping me off, so sure okay, we'll raise the bid to $2,400."
"Do I hear $2,500?"
|Good times. Bad clams.|