I don’t know who came up with the concept of having joint activities at birthday parties, but they sure deserve a kick in the noggin. Those activities can take various frightening forms and reach from stupid, made-up games (I hate going to my uncle’s parties - not sure they deserve this label) to passing something around the room to music and when the music stops the person holding the item has to do/say something. I got the pleasure to enjoy the latter at a 40th birthday last Saturday. Not that I cannot appreciate the nice thought behind it, but for Pete’s sake, what is wrong with those people? Maybe it’s just me (though I doubt that) but every time I am in the middle of some party-torture-game-thing I panic. Literally. Apparently, so does everyone else. People passed the umbrella (of doom) around like it was a leper, anxious to get the virulent thing out of their hands.
There I was staring at Pandora’s Box making it’s way over to me. The music had been going on for ages, centuries and it was bound to fall silent soon . . . very soon, when the umbrella reached me kind of soon. Discomfort turned into swelling fear rearing up inside me. As I extended my hand to grab the Kryptonite the music stopped. My fingers had already touched the handle but the guy who gave it to make still had it in a tight grasp; his fingers seemed to stick on it as if it were made of ice. My hand jerked away, seemingly on its own. I got spared, felt blessed and stopped sweating.
The only thing I have ever experienced that was worse than party activities was a 15 minute long Power Point presentation consisting of childhood pictures and retarded music for a 14 year old girl. Thanks, uncle.
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