Showers do not bring Flowers

How do I like to spend my weekends? At bridal showers! My future sister-in-law's shower was on Sunday, and in truth, it wasn't too bad. At first, I was pissed that I didn't get to host the shower. Being the control freak that I am, I thought that it would be fun to be the hostess with the mostest. After attending the shower, however, I am delighted to have dodged that bullet. If I was in charge of the shower, there would not have been salmon salad, nor heart-shaped candles. We would have eaten pizza out of a box and watched a movie. Guess it's a good thing the old ladies beat me to the hosting punch.

The most boring part of the evening was watching Jamie open presents. Fourteen wine glasses, a margarita pitcher, two toasters, and a bunch of decorative frames later, and I had kissed almost two hours of my life goodbye. I must say though, that while the "party" was mildly tolerable for a social leper like me, the worst part of the entire event, even beating out the gift-a-thon, was the older women asking me about my dating life. No thanks.

"So, Ariella, have you met any nice boys in New York?"*
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"**
"Did you go out with a lot of Jewish boys this year?"***

*A few. I didn't go out with any of them though. I prefer the jerks.
**No, and thank you for bringing that to my attention. Again.
***Nope. I had casual sex with a few goyem, you know, people outside the tribe. From what I hear, Jews have tiny penises.

Ah, bridal showers: a roomful of people excited about love eating mini-quiches. If God is as benevolent as those Jesus freaks claim, then I will not be attending another one for a while.