39th on 39th

You know that person who announces, “I’m going to make this happen,” where “this” is something massively outrageous? And everyone makes fun of this person, saying, “Yeah right, no way that will ever fly.” Well, that’s what all the Glover Park Moms thought when Drunken Santa announced on our group text last week that she was going to throw herself a 39th Birthday Party.

Not just a regular house party. No. Drunken Santa was planning to erect one of those huge event tents in the street. Think – outdoor wedding, furniture warehouse sale, hotel conference – IN THE STREET.

Not one of us took her seriously. This is the neighborhood where a plant thief can’t even steal a single tulip bulb without 18 angles of the theft-in-progress from various doorbell cams being circulated.

But this past Friday, the tent arrived. As it started going up, we all watched in awe. Drunken Santa can really make shit happen.

i pity the fool who doesn’t take me seriously!

i pity the fool who doesn’t take me seriously!

It didn’t take long for someone to ask about the tent…on the neighborhood message board.


But then no one answered…which is truly unprecedented in this neighborhood because that time a bird got into someone’s house and was roosting in the master bedroom waiting for their eggs to hatch, there were over three dozen responses on that nonsense. An astonishing amount of replies advised the owner to close the bedroom door and just let the birds have his bedroom until the babies were born and could flee the nest on their own. Just so you know what we’re dealing with here.

But no one responded. Not one more word about the tent. Which means, she got to them. Drunken Santa effectively silenced everyone before it became news.

And a birthday party was had.

I’ve often told Real Estate Dad that I love a good caper. Give me a nice “Three’s Company” style experience that is entertaining, hilarious and zips up nicely in a short amount of time and I’m sold. Drunken Santa brings that to Glover Park. She is Jack, Janet, Chrissy and Larry, with a side of Kramer, all rolled into one. My kids love Drunken Santa. For the party, they were shuffled off to someone’s house where their kids watched our kids (we don’t know who they are…but someone knew them.) When we went to pick them up, the girls said, “We want to help Drunken Santa clean up.” So, we went back to the tent and Real Estate Dad wisely went home.

Oh, don’t worry, he’ll be back.

The girls learned important life lessons that night – no you don’t pour out the rest of the wine but yes, beer cans can be emptied.

To give Drunken Santa one less thing to do, we dragged the bag of recycling home. And it didn’t make it. It broke halfway and I had to send the girls to get Real Estate Dad, who, shaking his head the whole time, came back to save us with more plastic bags.

Then we secretly filled up one of the other Mom’s recycling bins with cans and went on our way. Well, she shouldn’t have left early. Besides, her bin was closest.

My mother is ridiculous. Thank goodness we have Daddy.

My mother is ridiculous. Thank goodness we have Daddy.

Next trash and recycling pickup falls on Thanksgiving, so, um, sorry?

Oh hell, my cell phone just buzzed. Drunken Santa just announced the date of the next party. It’s in 2 weeks, in the alley behind her house. Be there or be square.