Trauma On A Saturday Afternoon

If you know me at all, either in person or via the blog, you are probably aware of my biggest neurosis. (Or what I consider to be my biggest neurosis. You might have a different ranking on your scorecard at home.) In case you had forgotton, I'm absolutely freakish about having any food in the bathroom. Or dishes in the bathroom.

Yes, it's my whacky brand of Kosher. Where food is at the beginning and where food is at the end should be kept miles apart in my book.

Which is why today's baby shower presented a bit of a throw-up-in-my-mouth moment.

I'm generally not a fan of showers, largely because they involve some of the stupidest games I've ever been subject to. These games usually involve the wearing of safety pins, the cutting of ribbon or the unwinding of vast amounts of toilet paper. No. Sorry. Not my idea of fun. Yet I do like the part of showers where you get to intermingle with the people who make up the various social circles of the honoree. There's usually a potpourri of women--some from work, some from church, some from their distant past. Everyone seems to have at least one Barnacle Friend who's known them since they were in Kindergarten together. Those people interest me. All my Barnacle Friends are stuck in Indiana and therefore relieved of any tedious Kat Shower Duty should I fall pregnant.

Oh yeah. Back to the grossness. I've been putting off writing about it because I don't think I can take it. But much like memories of life's most embarrassing moments I have to confront this to be rid of it.

Today we played the Shower Game From Hell. Here's how the game works: your hostess puts various candy bars into diapers and microwaves them. She then walks around with the ::::shudders while typing:::: mushy chocolate-filled diaper and you have to guess what type of candy bar it was before the nuking.

I swear to you I had tears running out of my eyes. At one point I actually said "Oh Dear GOD!" in what was most decidedly a plea to my Lord without any touch of blasphemy. I came thisclose to spraying spinach dip and green punch all over Barnacle Friend's carpet. I swear I'm traumatised.

And if I ever meet the inventor of this game, I will make them watch a three hour videotaped autopsy.