Somebody Please Help Me!

I went to a Graduation party this evening for one of the actors on my church Drama Team. We did a “Jeopardy" sketch together last weekend. The Graduate is our team’s “baby” at 17, and beyond sweet and adorable, with the most adorable parents and 7 adorable siblings. Honestly, they are all so cute they make the Brady Bunch Kids look like rodents! I fell in love with this family, and if I believed in reincarnation, I’d want to come back as one of their kids. I honestly would. They are all loving and well-mannered and just darling.

Little Squirt went to play in the backyard with some of the little siblings, and Super Hubs and I sat outside to keep an eye on him. And that is when their elderly neighbor plopped her ample-sized booty into the chair next to me and asked me if I was “politically active.” Which is when Super Hubs skeedaddled out of there, the Lily-Livered Chicken Poopy, hence leaving me to fence with Crazy Political Lady on my own. And she made an assumption (based on I have no idea what) that I was of a certain political persuasion. And then she insisted that I join her group, Daughters of The Revolutionary Crazy Peeps or some such. All I heard was “blah blah blah” because I wasn’t quite paying attention. I find political discussions very boring and very uncomfortable and I rarely join in, being a very Politically Private Person. Oxymoron? Perhaps, but that is mois.

So Crazy Political Lady droned on and on about the stimulus package and illegal immigrants and the agenda for her next meeting, which she insisted I attend. And all I could think of was how I was going to torture Super Hubs in the most agonizing ways possible when we got home, for leaving me at the mercy of Crazy Political Lady and smugly standing in the corner of the yard eating watermelon and pretending he didn’t see me.

And I kept praying that somebody would fake a heart attack or that a giant bee would sting me, thus creating a diversion that would enable me to leave the presence of Crazy Political Lady, who was, at that very moment, babbling on about the current Administration’s policy on social security. And how she went to Joe’s Crab shack and ate lobster for her 42nd anniversary, but doesn’t like caviar...blahblahblah. I was clearly her new BFF.

I love people. I really do. But I seem to have some kind of pheremones that attract the Socially Inept at parties wherever I go. And I never know how to move on. I’m uncomfortable disappointing people.

Thank the good Lord for texting. A simple, “Get me out of here or I will cut you” to Super Hubs caused him to finally rescue me. Thank the good Lord for Little Squirt, who is still young enough that we can plead, “He needs to get to bed early tonight.” Which is what we did, finally, and moved on.