Brett

A guy I play basketball with has a big party every year that I always get invited to but for whatever reason never end up attending. I was free this time and went solo thinking some of the other guys from hoops would surely be there.

It turned out to be a huge bash. I walked in their suburban home and didn’t recognize any of the eleventy-seven people that were standing within sight of the front door. A few people stopped talking and looked at me like they’d never seen a tall balding guy with a crooked head, scruffy face, poor posture, big smile, bigger feet, sunny attitude and slightly perplexed look that said, “Oh shit, is this Derek and Stephanie’s house or did I just walk into a stranger’s party?”

I decided to pretend like I’d been there a thousand times before and figured even if I was in the wrong house at the wrong party, I may as well grab a beer and see if they are serving any Pigs in a Blanket.

I strode confidently into the kitchen knowing that is the most likely place to find a drink, five versions of seven-layer dip and a bunch of soccer moms. I was wrong. There were six versions of the dip. But sure enough, there was a keg and a stack of red plastic cups. Sweet. I’m 43 years old and hitting a kegger with complete strangers. A black Sharpie was next to the cups. I quickly deduced that we were supposed to put our names on the cups so I wrote “Derek’s Bitch” on mine and filled it up.

As I scanned the counter tops looking for Pigs in a Blanket, I was thinking a crockpot of meatballs would be a decent alternative. A few soccer moms eyed me suspiciously and I quickly checked to make sure my zipper was up. I smiled with relief and wondered how that must have looked to them – a sudden glance at my own package followed by a goofy grin.

Two of the soccer moms broke from the pack and I quickly went on guard careful to not let myself get surrounded by chatter on the PTA or worse, personal questions about myself. I backed to a wall and wondered why strangers always want to know where you work, if you are married or have children and who you know at the party? Oh yeah, I forgot for a second that I may not even be at the right party. For all I knew, this was a family reunion.

One of the suspicious women said, “Hi there. How are you?”

That seemed like a reasonable question. And she didn’t mention the PTA yet, so I offered my hand and said, “I’m great! How are you? Have you seen any Pigs in a Blanket?” I leaned in, motioning for a little quiet discretion and followed up with, “I’m getting out of this dump if they don’t at least have some meatballs.” And then I nodded like we were all in this mess together.

Instead of answering, I noticed them both eyeballing my cup. I have giant hands so I made room for them to see my handiwork of “Derek’s Bitch.” I smiled and raised my left eyebrow. I can do the left eyebrow really well, but for some reason can’t make my right eyebrow cooperate. I have tried but mostly end up with a crinkled nose and squinty eye that appears to be a nervous wink. So I did the left eyebrow-raise with a debonair quality that was sure to get one of those fine ladies to chillax and fetch me a plate full of Pigs in a Blanket.

“Derek’s Bitch? Hi there Derek’s Bitch, I’m Stephanie.”

“Hi Stephanie, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Wait, Stephanie! As in Derek’s Real Bitch? You are the hostess of this party?”

“Are you Brett? You play basketball with Derek?”

“Yes, yes that is me. You probably didn’t expect me to be so good looking, but yes that is me. I’m so happy to meet you. I was afraid I walked into somebody’s Bar Mitzvah which would suck because I don’t know if there is such a thing as Kosher Pigs in a Blanket.”

Stephanie said, “Derek told me you are coming and you are the only person here I don’t know so I figured it must be you.” Her friend giggled like she was twelve. I bet she knew where I could at least find some chicken nuggets.

“So Brett, I mean Derek’s Bitch, what do you do?”

Here we go. “I’m in importing and exporting. And sometimes I partake in industrial espionage.” Left eyebrow-raise. The twelve-year old soccer mom giggled again and nearly spilled her Zinfandel. “And to cut to the chase, I’m a divorced father of two little boys that I’m training to be ninjas. I like long walks on the beach, the smell of spring and I’d really love some Pigs in a Blanket right now.”

“Derek told me you are in advertising.”

“Well, yes. I mean, that is my day job. I own my own company so you know, I show up once in awhile to shuffle papers around, see if my employees are there and make lunch plans. But I really think there is a bright future in industrial espionage.”

“How old are your boys?”

“They are eight and five. They rock. They still worship the ground I walk on and honestly, my life pretty much revolves around them and keg parties.”

“Brett!!!” Derek was already shitfaced and came racing into the kitchen. He gave me a big hug and said, “I see you met Stephanie!”

“Yes, yes, we are old souls already. She knows everything she needs to know about me. I’m hoping its good enough to let me stay. I’m enjoying the party.”

Lo and behold, a fat guy walked by with a huge plate of Pigs in a Blanket.

Life is great.

Brett – WowThatWasAwkard http://darkstormyloopy.blogspot.com/

Judges Comments:

"I'll be honest, your blog post here was ever so much better than your audition post. The reason? I think your audition post was disjointed and felt like you were trying oh so hard to be funny.

This story came off as extremely natural. It flowed and showed what a great potential you have as a natural comedic story teller.

Good job."
-Allison, from SVALLIE.NET: The Nerd Connection

"HAHA! I loved it. You can tell you have advertising background by the way you are comfortable 'advertising' yourself. I gotta say though, it threw me off a tad when you said "As in Derek’s Real Bitch?" I know that some women don't mind it and whatever, but to me, it's kind of degrading. If it was in your audition would I knock points off for it? No. But I'm just pointing out the fact that not all women look at that term the same way."
-Heather, from My Husband Ate All My Ice Cream

"Much better than the first post of yours I read. The story, awesome. I would love to have an experience like it. It didn't really tell me about who you are though. Only the last little bit about being a dad and in advertising. I know a lot of people like that.

I am also with Heather about some of your terminology with "Derek's Real Bitch" and the term soccer mom is just tacky in my opinion. That's just me though.

You have a great knack for telling a story. Put more of yourself into it and don't try so hard to be the life of the party."
-The Dude, from The Daddyyo Blog