Hip Hip Hooray

I am going to throw a party in honor of my youngest child's 39th birthday next month. It's going to be a surprise, so don't tell ANYBODY! I am inviting all of her brothers, her sister, her aunts, ward of one aunt, husband of another aunt. I'm going to include her cousins, and their spouses and children, her nieces and nephews, her sister-in-law, the parents and aunt of her sister-in-law, the mother of a parent of her sister-in-law. I'm inviting the guy that delivers pizza to the house of any of these people, plus their pool guys, their gardeners, their cleaning crews. I'm sending all of them to the house of the guest of honor, treating them to a delightful weekend for this most auspicious occasion.

I'm sparing no expense, leaving no stone unturned. I'm inviting Mohammar Qaddafi and Robert Mugabi; also invited are the Boston Strangler and Osama bin Laden. Bernie Madoff will get special leave to be there. I'm inviting all of her FaceBookFriends (FBF's) -- ALL of them -- and all of the FBF's of all of her FBF's that she's poached over the years.

Unfortunately, I am unable to invite myself, but this huge and expensive party is the very least I can do for my baby girl. It is an honor to reduce myself to just making it happen for her. She's lonely, she's frightened for her future, and is nearly eaten alive with hate. Poor kid -- maybe this will make her feel better.

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