I pulled off the surprise of the century for my boo on Saturday night. The planning started only a week before when I realized November snuck up on me like a sneeze-fart: fast and furious. I looked at my calendar, saw there were only 9 days until the celebration of the man who rocks my LIFE, and knew I had to act fast. I knew I wanted to do something big and, because I love a challenge (and a surprise, see: title), I settled on a surprise party and set the wheels in motion for a mere 5-days away. The clock was a-tickin' down.
Planning a surprise is hard enough, but planning it for someone you live with IN the place you live is near impossible. I had to call in many favors and every single person without exception delivered. With golden fists of fury! God, we have great friends. The guise was set: a meeting with comedy pal and bestie Vince to commence at 7pm on the night of the party. That plan quickly fell through when our worst fears were realized. He said no! (WhyIoughta...) Vince's lady, Jodi, suggested I take him to dinner instead which was a grand plan B, but one which would need a lot of additional help. I called in reinforcements in the form of Fire! (Kate Tellers), Water! (Marcy Girt), Air! (Carrie Faverty) and Earth! (Jason Falchook). They jumped at the challenge and delivered a 9-pound baby boy named Matt McCarthy. Well, his surprise party anyway. So, at 7pm the night of the fete, I took Matt to Sel de Mer where we laboriously dined on lobster, fries and Budweiser tall boys while the Fearsome Foursome TCB, all the while my stomach turning over in antici..... (say it!). And boy was he ever surprised. Not a clue! Never have I seen him move as quickly in my life. It was... beautiful.
|Sooplize! (photo: Jason Falchook)|
"Ha ha ha, yeah I dare you," she said.
"Do you REALLY DARE ME?"
And with that I ran over and hopped in the limo, rolled down the window and shouted, "Happy birthday, bitch! This is YOUR limo!" And then I reveled in the look on her face the rest of the night.
I love a surprise. It's a wonderful change of pace, but beyond that, after planning and executing a real, lights-up, everyone-you-love-in-one-room surprise party, I realized I've loved a surprise party my entire life. Every single year since... as long as I can remember, I've wished and hoped for one planned in my honor. To me it came to signify, well, love. Look at all this work we did for you! Look at all these people who showed up! Look at the time and planning done in your honor! We love you! I thought if my family was unable to show they loved me in certain ways a surprise party was a wonderful way to make up for it. But, and not to throw myself a surprise pity-party here, it never happened. But actually I'd assume that's the case for most people. (And if it's not, if every single one of you has had a surprise party thrown for you... DON'T TELL ME.) Most people don't have the surprise of their life and even sadder than that, don't celebrate their birthday at all.
How can you not?? How can you not celebrate the day you were born?! I'm not getting on my soapbox, I swear, but I just wonder what the reasoning is behind that. I guess celebrating could just not be your thing. I hope it's not that you don't think you're worth a celebration! (WhyIoughta...) For me, my birthday was the one day a year I got to be the center of attention. I know that sounds crazy me being an actress and all, (an actress with self-esteem issues... alert the presses!), but I felt it was the one day I could ask people to come and deal with my antics without a tinge of guilt or self-doubt on my part. It was also the one day I could ask them to make t-shirts/do karaoke/don wigs/spend $90 on dinner and basically act a fool. And so, upon moving to NY, I decided I was going to do my birthday up big times.
The T-Shirt Party of 2006
I provided t-shirts, markers and a few art supplies (hehe, supplies!) and people did the rest.
|A Dangerous Question|
|The Creator of the "Glesbian" title, Ms. Kate Tellers|
PLEASE NOTE: I did not ask, nor require the use of my name in the making of said shirts. (But I didn't discourage it either.)
The Wig/Karaoke Party of 2007
I asked people to don wigs and sing songs and they delivered. Boy did they deliver.
|First time in the big city.|
|Quiet, please. There's a lady on stage.|
|You-ah, you-ah, you-ah oughta know.|
|Willie showed up with his puff jacket stuffed with kind bud.|
|Jezus kreist. Why are these buttons so small!?|
|I invited him because I had a huge crush and when he showed up I peed a little. Now we're getting married!|
The Dirtbag Potluck/Karaoke/Wig Party of 2008
I asked, once again, for the donning of wigs with the addition of a dirty, nasty, delicious dirtbag potluck dish.
|Pre-party wig placements.|
|Serious Musical Soul Sisters|
|The "Dirtbag Potluck" portion of the evening.|
|Now they havin a baby, y'all! A wig baby!|
|Brandon took his wig a little too seriously.|
|Yunz want some Cheetahs?|
|Eazy Squeezy Cheese Pants|
|And this. Nuff said.|
I love a surprise, but my need for a surprise party to be thrown in my honor has faded and, I think, been sated. No longer is it the only way I know to feel loved, though throwing the fete for Matt was indeed love-fueled and love-themed. All these parties I threw for myself were just as full of love and people who have now become my NY family. So no surprises for Glennis, though if you're set on throwing one wait until my death day. What a way to go!