Bookmark or Buttfloss?

Bookmark or Buttfloss?,
originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

There's nothing like catching S completely unawares. The poor girl had

her mouth hung open long enough to consume a day's worth of protein

just from the bugs that entered! (Of course, she'd have a problem

with this because she would mourn the loss of all those bugs...she's

the sort that escorts bugs out of her house and gives them a little

cash to start a new home before sending them on their way. *wink*)

Anyways, when she arrived, the party for her was already in full

swing. We had consumed enough salad, sausage roll, fruit and cheese

appetizers to make us uncomfortable if we weren't sitting up straight,

done-in half the sherbet-champagne punch, and almost run out of

conversation. The party thrown by her soon-to-be-in-laws was in honor

of S's upcoming wedding, and was destined to be memorable, if only

because of the momentous amount of food (the main course included 7

large tins of Italian delicacies). There was a pedicure/manicure

station, a wine-tasting table, and scores of well-decorated tables

(with dragonflies for bug-loving S), all with a view of the ocean, as

we were a jump (literally) away from the beach. Thankfully, there was

drinking instead of guess-retarded-details-about-the-bride-to-be-games

and a stripper instead of um, er...actually the lack of any real

entertainment (like with other wedding showers I've been to). Yes, I

DID say a stripper...I'll get back to that. 'Course it was pretty

entertaining watching S wade through the tall pile of presents geared

at making her a homemaker. I had mine delivered by Noel, so as to add

another assurance of trust, beyond the obvious shape of the gift.

True-to-form, there was a book under the wrap. A cookbook to be more

precise. It was the bookmark that was the kicker (see photo). She

received the prescribed amount of kitchen appliances and tools,

candles, home-crotchet goods-destined never to leave the box, and

slinky underwear, i.e. buttfloss. Then policeman Giovanni showed up

because he'd heard S had been bad. He proceeded to flick his leather

belt in a whip-motion, handcuff S, take off his shirt, AND,

AND....that would be when the 3 year old and I took a walk. So much

for my first opportunity to see a stripper......We made it back for

the cake, cookies, and marshmallow salad though. I think I was in a

food-coma when I left, however, I was quite satisfied that S had been

thrown a party that sufficiently relished, embarrassed, and adored

her. Wishing you the best S and J.....