Kirstin and I went to prom. Or a grown-up, much fancier, drinking-is-allowed, quality steak dinner, flaunt-it-if-you've-got-it version of prom. We attended the Children's Museum gala on Friday, thanks to an invite from a colleague of mine. As this colleague is married to someone whose family is a pretty big mover and shaker in Houston, we were at a good table. When I say a good table, I mean we were sitting in front of the guy who bid $62,000 on a weekend getaway trip to the Kentucky Derby for four people (I think they let you pick up horse turds for free).
We did enter the silent auction, bidding for a box at a polo match for eight (probably more horse turds) followed by dinner for the same at this nice local restaurant. We were the only ones to bid up until the last few minutes when some other woman upped the bid (in the words of K, "She can't steal our polo match. And seriously, who wears that dress to a gala?") So we rebid a little higher, and thought we had it nailed down until the polo-stealing tramp cracked the whip on her husband to come and re-up again.
The guy saved us spending the money, and probably kept me from stepping in horse turds for an entire Sunday afternoon, but when that adrenaline was flowing I was pissed. That jack off stole polo from me! So his little harlot could see the cute widdle ponies? (Let's leave aside for the moment that I have never once in my life wished to watch polo.) I hope he gets turd in his tea and crumpets. Bastard.
Other than that, we had a splendid time. If you haven't been to a gala, here's how to picture it. Think of a nice wedding you've been to. Now replace all the cheap well liqour with good stuff. Scale up (yes up) the percentage of women who are wearing things that I'll kindly refer to as "fashion risks". Finally, remove "that table" (you know, your nose-picking cousin Eddy, the podiatrist that lives next door to your grandma, and your alcoholic uncle who likes to goose waitresses), and replace it with "that table" (essentially, the nose-picking heir to the Chevron fortune, the head of proctology at Memorial Hermann Hospital, and 6 other alcoholic waitress-goosers who happen to own energy-trading companies that are in the black on their positions in oil futures).
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3 comments:
I think you might have been nicer about the words you used to disparage these people who let you attend their gala function. Who knows, they may be in a position to determine your destiny and I cannot imagine they will think on you kindly. Next time you need to vent with a mean-spirited vengeful commentary, just email it to friends and foes and post something more self-recriminating like: "Gee-whiz and golly, I sure as heck wish I had had the $$s to buy that polo event off that nice old fella at that charity auction. Maybe when I get me that oil well, I can compete"
I am still your mother and can still tell you to "be nice"
1. That was equal opportunity disparagement. The point was that the people with the $$ are no better than the random people at a lame wedding.
2. The fact that I got mad at the polo guy was an illustration of how stupid instant reactions can be. I actually got mad, even though I can' think of a reason I want to see polo. It's funny what competition does to people in the moment. We felt like we "owned" that polo thing, and like he "stole" it from us.
3. If the point is to "be nice", then I shouldn't vent at all, whether privately over e-mail or publicly on a blog.
Yes, but didn't your mother teach you to be "gracious"?
Though I may not be the favorite, at least I'm the most gracious.
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