Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Surprise!


Oh, pu-lease! Grow up! I don’t like surprises.

I don’t like it when you walk up behind me, put your hands over my eyes and say, “Guess who!” I immediately give up…because I don’t care. “Surprise! It’s me.” Whoopdy-do-da! I’m thrilled.

Please don’t ever jump out from behind something and surprise me. I could end up in the hospital and you could end up with injuries and we’ll both feel bad.

Are you aware of the outrageous number of people who die annually as a result of surprise parties? The mortality rate is astounding, actually. Think about it. You get off work on Friday evening. You’ve had a really tough week. You’re exhausted by the time you stop by the grocery store and the movie store. Your arms are filled with Diet Cokes, microwave popcorn, Breyer's butter pecan ice cream and DVDs. The house is dark, you flip on the light and 50 people jump out of closets and from behind the furniture screaming, “Surprise!” We’re talking here about possibly serious strokes and heart attacks. And that’s supposed to be fun? For whom?

Or better yet, some woman tells her husband she is going to visit a sick aunt for the weekend. He walks into his own house with his own girlfriend; only to find out his wife deliberately lied to him. She was planning his surprise birthday party all along. How fair is that? This one situation could lead to multiple homicidal deaths…all because the wife wanted to see the surprised look on his face.

Oh, and by the way, don’t even attempt to give me a surprise party. I’ll know. I will. Someone will always slip up. Always. You ask, “Com’on, seriously, did you suspect anything?” You mean did it set off any alarms when Susan asked what she should bring to my party on Friday? Or Aunt Erma asked what time she should be there? No, of course these questions totally went over my head. Didn’t suspect a thing! Now you’re forcing me to lie or burst your bubble. It puts a lot of pressure on me.

I have a strong belief that surprises are not for the benefit of the recipient, but for the giver. It’s all about seeing that two second look of utter shock and confusion on the face of the surprisee. It’s all about catching the honoree completely unawares. It’s all about pulling off the ultimate practical joke. What other motive could possibly precipitate such a plan?

My preference would be to enjoy the process. In the weeks leading up to the event, let me savor the fact that you care enough to do this for me. Let me know so I can brush my teeth and have on a clean shirt, deodorant and lipstick. If it’s at my house, I would like the opportunity to clean the bathrooms and put out full rolls of toilet paper before the guests arrive. Give me an opportunity to review the guest list so the real surprise doesn’t come in the fact that you’ve invited people I don’t even know or like.

Now, please don’t confuse other surprises with unexpected gifts. Unexpected gifts are perfectly acceptable for any occasion or for no occasion. You can seldom go wrong with an unexpected gift. There are exceptions, I suppose. Like the time my husband surprised me with a kayak for my birthday. A kayak! Do I look like I would want a kayak? Has the man lived with me all these many years and yet, he thinks I would enjoy a kayak? We laughed all the way to the jewelry store!

6 comments:

Sara said...

Good thing we couldn't pull off your surprise birthday party. Seriously, there was one planned.

Joy said...

Like I didn't already know about it anyway!

Sara said...

Only because I can't keep secrets. But the real surprise was never getting you a gift.

Joy said...

Like I said, I don't like surprises...like not getting gifts.

Sara said...

I'm storing up treasures in heaven with your name on it

Anonymous said...

Well, Joy, once again you've given me a few laughs to make my day go quickly.

Sally tried to give me a surprise for my 40th. I was to play golf with a friend that day and then he and his family were coming over for a nice quiet dinner party. Of course, I knew something was up...the dead give away was when I walked from my car to the the front door and saw two of Sally's colleg buddies driving by looking for house numbers. Upon opening my door I was greeted with a big "Surprise", but the cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

My brother, Mike, lives in Santa Cruz, CA. The year he was turning 50 he specifically said he wanted no party on his birthday. His wife complied...and held the party six months later...needless to say, he was surprised. We had a great time.

Just for the record...Sally and I own two kayaks...and they are a hoot!

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