Neighborhood Block Party

This weekend was the annual neighborhood block party. While our neighborhood doesn't exactly have an HOA, they do collect money from everyone for the block party, neighborhood rummage sale, and holiday luminaries. I have reason to believe that the majority of this money is spent on the block party, between the beer tent and the industrial grill.

Every year the event starts with a parade. Our parade consists of the Grand Marshal (some random punk kid) and our local 5-0. Following them are about 30 kids on bikes with balloons and streamers. Trailing behind is the four year old who thought he could ride the three and a half blocks on his own and is now walking his bike with the local fire department's 2000 gallon tanker nipping at his training wheels.

Ben and I have learned from the past few years not to show up right when it starts. You gotta show up about thirty minutes after the food line opens. If you wait long enough, your neighbors are already drunk and gossiping while the food line has diminished.

This year's entertainment, besides the DJ and the organized games that the HOA president/SUPER mom has coordinated, was our neighbor from across the street. She was piss drunk, and it was 6:00pm. Like the friendly neighbors we are, we approached the clique of women to say our hellos and the next thing we know she's telling us she's already drank an entire bottle of wine and her husband is home sick. Her husband, that she swears loves her more than she loves him, and after 24 years of marriage he still takes such good care of her, and her oldest son is heading off to college next year, and so on and yadda yadda yadda. We were also enlightened by her story of another neighbor who's on his fourth wife, the current one he's actually married twice. So I guess that would be four marriages and three wives. Wow, I think our community could have it's own version of Desperate Housewives of Orange County.

This, to us, looked like the perfect place for Ben and I to plant ourselves for the evening. We knew we would be assured an eventful night with her in our sights. After the pie eating contest, the clique decided to break out pudding shots. Yes, it's the suburban version of the frat house jello shot. It was actually very good, chocolate pudding, Kahlua and chocolate vodka. I'm hoping Ben's cousin takes note for next year's Easter celebration.

Once the games had finished the DJ cranked up the music, turned the disco lights on and got the party staaarrrrtttteed! This is when Miss Wino (and I'm not talking about myself) decided to heat up the dance floor. Her poor daughter sat with her teenage friends on a nearby lawn totally embarrassed. A few even came up and danced next to her while friends took pictures with their iPhones. In the darkness there was a solid glow of light coming from the lawn with frantic texts going out about Sally's mom. Poor lady, the whole community will know about her state in about .5 seconds. The highlight of the night was when Miss Wino was headed back to the party after getting her bottle of Bourbon. She wiped out in the middle of the cul-de-sac... now you see her, now you don't. Priceless! The best part? She caught her ice cubes that fell out of her glass and was so proud of herself for saving what was important. How would she have ever managed to drink her bourbon without those ice cubes?!?

We wrapped up the night by asking if we could walk her the 1/2 block home (note: it was 10pm) but she insisted she was fine. Meanwhile another neighbor was feeding her food and a diet coke. Her husband is not going to let her attend the block party on her own ever again. We, on the other hand, have next year's marked on the calendar already!