My Dad's 60th Birthday

After my mother celebrated her 60th birthday last year, this year it was my father's turn.

I had both looked forward to this evening as well as felt uneasy about it.

Like every year, I knew very well that there would be two topics: 

1. How is university going? What, you are still not finished? And what do you want to do when you are finished?

2. Why don't you have a boyfriend? 

I am absolutely sick of both topics, and have been for years.

Up to a certain extent I can understand that they just don't have any other topic at hand when it comes to me. She's a student and she has no boyfriend. That is the only thing they know about me. Still, it is just so tiresome to answer those questions again and again.

So I was not really looking forward to spending my evening with the usual huge fake smile, answering the same questions again and smiling even more whenever someone remarked that I was pretty, that I should get a boyfriend, or that they'd willingly fuck me anytime.

Especially when it came to my "special friend" (you might remember the last years) I was not sure if I could keep smiling.

However, in the end, things were not bad at all, and I enjoyed the party very much.

Preparations

We had the party at a location right next to my gym. It's a bowling center / Australian restaurant that has some booth rooms. I had never been to one of those booths, but the one we had turned out to be just awesome. I was really impressed.

As we had a catering instead of the usual cooking all by ourselves the preparations were much more relaxed than in other times.

The whole house had to be cleaned, as my mother just loves to show people around the house.

I was absolutely thrilled when I heard my mother show people through my rooms while I was in the shower shaving my crotch. Thank you, mom, for actually knocking on my door and asking if it was a good time instead of just coming in.

When I answered her, saying it was not exactly convenient at the moment, I felt an urge to yell "I'm taking a dump, but just wait a minute, then you can come in!", but......yeah, I decided I would not.

Even I have some dignity left ;)

The party location was only 5 minutes walk away from my home, but as I successfully managed to put my contact lenses into my eyes without properly cleaning the detergents off my fingertips, I spent a good 20 minutes crying like hell and then fixing the leftovers of my make-up, and only rushed to the place 7 minutes before the scheduled start.

But I can run if I have to!

And my make-up didn't turn out too bad. But I had no time left to fix my curled hair, so it looked a little strange for the first hour or so.

But yeah, you know me: I still thought I was awesome :D

I ran until there were only 30 meters or so left till the main entrance, when I discovered special friend and partner arriving. Luckily they did not see me, and I stopped dead and hid behind a bush until they entered the building.
Then I calculated the time it would take until they boarded the elevator. (I haven't walked in and out that building for the last 12 years for nothing!)
I snuck in when their elevator arrived and sprinted up the stairs, and I really arrived before their elevator did, so I was able to get into the rooms before them and could pretend I hadn't seen them.
Yes, I was willing to take a whole lot of trouble if it just meant minimizing the contact with that couple.


Here is a picture of me with my parents. Too bad my mom wanted to tell something to the photographer instead of just smiling, but I still think it's a nice picture.

The Dancing

My parents spend a lot of their spare time at a dancing studio. As so many of their friends experienced the scenario that they'd call my parents, and nobody would pick up, and my parents would call back hours later, saying "Sorry, we've been dancing", they decided that it was time to show their friends what exactly they were doing all the time.

It was a really hot day, so everybody was sweating a lot that day. Nevertheless, my parents gave a short performance of all 12 dances they learned.

My mom had brought two dresses to wear for the dancing and I went with her and helped her change into them.

They started with standard dances (waltz, tango etc.) and my mother wore a black dress which she had  - by herself! - trimmed with ostrich feathers. They really made her dress look like a real dancing dress. After a few dances they had a break and I helped my mother change into her latin dress. Then they performed a second set of dances (cha cha, rumba etc.).

Everybody took loads of photos videos and they gave a lot of applause.

 I must admit that for me, too, this was the first time I really saw my parents do their dances, and they were really good! I felt really proud. I was very glad the music worked out. I had prepared the mp3s that were to be played for the performance, and I had done my best to make things fool-proof. My brother told people the names of the pieces and the dances, and the hired DJ (extended family member) played the songs. I was very glad that "play song 001 first and continue with 002 when we tell you to" was not too complicated and everything went smoothly. I was very glad the music worked out. I had prepared the mp3s that were to be played for the performance, and I had done my best to make things fool-proof. My brother told people the names of the pieces and the dances, and the hired DJ (extended family member) played the songs. I was very glad that "play song 001 first and continue with 002 when we tell you to" was not too complicated and everything went smoothly.  

While my parents were sweating on the dancefloor I had one or another Aperol Spritz that evening, and each tasted better than the one I had before. It was great to be able to drink loads of alcohol and not having to drive anyone to any place. Alcohol really makes family parties easier.

My brother and his girlfriend looked absolutely gorgeous that day, and when my parents finished the "official dance" performance, they joined them on the dancefloor and danced some salsa.

Thus encouraged, more people entered the dancing fun.

Everybody danced a little while and then it was time for the FOOOOOOD.
It was good, and it was a lot.

I'm so sorry I didn't take any food photos. You guys missed out on something!
I guess some of the other guests has taken some photos though, and as I did a lot of leftover eating the day after the party, I certainly remember everything that was offered.




The Games


Just like last year with my mother, we had prepared some little surprises for my father.
Well, "we" is not entirely true.
In fact, it was all my brother's doing. He is just so much better at these things than I am. He prepared several games which we would do.
Here we recited a poem of a "beer treatment" that has 16 verses about 16 different kinds of beer. Whenever we mentioned the name of a beer brand, my brother's girlfriend (standing behind the bar, so in the photo she is covered by my body) would hand over the matching beer bottle.
In the end we gave my father a specially customized beer that was "his brand". In fact, it was just some normal beer, but we had bought some "design-them-yourself" beer labels and matching caps on some internet store which we named after my dad's childhood gang. This was especially funny since dad's co-members were also present and remembered how they had named their group after some kind of little statue in their garden, and how they had made a flag with that name, and how they would fly that flag everyday.
When we were finished, my dad gave one of the customized bottles from the sixpack we had prepared to each of those friends. We had absolutely not thought about that before, but it was really cool and they were very happy about it.

(Btw you would not believe the amount of dumb "can you walk in these shoes?" questions I was asked. "No. As you can see I am scrawling through the room." IDIOTS!)

Some friends of my father wrote a poem about my father's incredible knowledge on almost anything geography- or history-related and in the end they decorated him with a medal that was labeled a "wiki[dad] medal". He did not take it off for the rest of the evening.

A little later we did the "stand up if it refers to you" game. There we would show a written question behind his back and everybody to whom the question did refer had to stand up. (Like "Stand up if you are wearing something white") By looking at the people who stood up my dad had to guess the question. (Of course, everybody would help him until he got the answer.)
We were a bit sceptical beforehand whether or not we could make the game work with those people, but they played along nicely and it was a great success.
(However, there was, OF COURSE, the occasional dumb bitch that would half-questioningly read the question out loud. We are not sure if my father really did not hear her or if he wanted to be nice and played dumb afterwards.)

Afterwards there were a few hours of joyful drinking, eating, dancing and chatting and we were so happy that everybody enjoyed themselves and the party was a huge success.

The drink of the night was definitely Aperol Spritz. I cannot count how many of those we had, but I can tell you they were unbelievably tasty.







I spent most of my time with brother and his lady.

Ah, didn't we look fabulous?

Drunk People Stories


So everybody was happy, everybody danced, and it was great, but I guess you all know that even if things go good, you get so very tired when you constantly have to answer people that you do not yet know what you are going to do after graduation, and when you try to stay so nice when you just want to scream "It is saturday night, so please leave me alone with university topics!"
We all know the solution to this problem, right?
ALCOHOL!
So I drank and enjoyed myself on my own as much as I could.

Nevertheless, there are those few comment that I have to make about some of the guests.

Special Friend had (I guess due to health reasons) to leave the party early and so I did not have to talk to him at all. But I was nice enough to smile at his direction at some point in the evening.
His partner, however, was there and she was all ready to show exactly the amount of tact that I would expect in her.
My brother talked to her on a few occasions during the evening, and when they talked for the FIRST time (it was around 6:30pm!!!) the first thing she did was to show him something that looked, from my point of view, like a calendar.
I later found out that it was, indeed, a calendar.
A calendar made by her son and his girlfriend. (The son is the same age as my brother, as both our mothers had met 31 years ago in hospital when they were pregnant.)
It was a bondage calendar. It showed photos of the girlfriend being tied in the art of bondage. The only thing she wore was a tiny string, while the rest of her was exposed.
I had not seen the pictures myself. My brother said they could have been called "art" if there would, maybe, have been a little more fabric here and there, but as the photos were apparently showing what the couple did during their bondage live performances (WTF they do performances!!!) and were supposed to be as accurate as possible, there was quite a lot of nipple.
Now don't get me wrong: If that is what they do and if they are happy with it, it is great. I would probably want to watch one of those shows myself and I'm totally cool with it, even though I doubt that bondage would be my personal turn-on.
But just imagine the bizarre scenario that this woman would come to their friends' birthday party and the first thing she does is to show the PORN bondage photo calendar made by her son, the trained-and-examined leather&latex taylor, to the son of her friends. Erotic photos. In the afternoon. At a family party.
Is it only me or is that fucking awkward?

Then, of course, even though my special friend was out of the way this time, my uncle did his best to fill in.
He's not half as bad of course, but still, I am not always happy about "good humoured pranks".
Like when I was standing there, facing the bar, with all the guests in my back, and suddenly someone lifts my skirt and when I turn around, I see my uncle holding a camera in his hands and grinning.
Now he did not lift my skirt so high that you could actually see something, and I had also taken precautions (I know my folks after all) and put on my big pink ruffle undies.
But still, I am his NIECE. We are related! Come on man!

He also felt obliged to tell me, later on, when it was just a handful of guests left (and they were to sleep at our place), that tonight I would have the chance to pick out one of four guys! (Referring to himself, my cousin, the DJ and the DJ's brother.)
Now my uncle is way over 50. My cousin is, as far as I think, quite good-looking, but he is my COUSIN which would be - to me - basically fucking my brother. FUCK NO! And the other two boys are.... well....
Don't get me wrong, they are both nice. But they are.... I am not attracted to them.
The DJ is around my cousin's age, which is 25. But he looks like a boy and he's much shorter than me and - sorry, he is not quite my league when it comes to intellectual terms.

His brother is around 20 or 21 but if I didn't know him I would never guess he was older than 14 at the most.
He is also very short and tiny and he looks like a little boy!

And he is not exactly any smarter than his brother.

So, as I said: They are both very nice people, but I am about as interested in them as I am in a loaf of bread located in Timbuktu.
Which is ZERO.

God, I sound really superficial and mean here, I guess. But if you know me, you know very well that among the few men in whom I showed any interest during my life there has only been one person that could be considered "handsome", and also... well, I am just like that. I am not interested in men in general. I only happen to be interested in someone every other year, and even then, it is only after I have known that person for a while and I will only be interested in that one person and not any other. And that is why allusions like "there are several guys for you to choose from" make me so angry. I do not want that! And I do not want to justify my indifference! Why am I not allowed to just be myself?

Instead they behave as if it would be proper behaviour to just fuck anyone you are not even interested in, or even entering into a relationship with that person simply because you "can't allow yourself to be picky". Isn't this the most cruel, despicable thing in the world?
Even among the non-alpha-people, you can find someone you really care for, and then it's great to be with that person, but I never understood why it would make me an arrogant person or "too high standards" if I would not sink so low as to make someone believe I liked him when in fact I just did not.

Anyway, so my uncle alluded to the "4 guys under my roof tonight" and my eternal gratitude goes to my cousin who looked at my uncle with a raised eyebrow and said "You do realize she's related to 50% of them, right?"

Thank you, cousin! Buuuuuurn!

Half an hour later my uncle told me that I was just too pretty, and that was why guys didn't dare to approach me.
Well, nice of you, uncle, and probably meant as a compliment.
But my dear uncle, I AM being approached by men. More than I personally like, but I am not willing to "dress down" just because others approach me too much. I am free to look however I want.
So, dear uncle, it is not that I am not being approached. It is just that the one guy I would like to approach is not interested in approaching me or being approached by me, and I am not interested in anyone else.
Sorry to break the news to you, but I have figured out how to use adult toys. I do not need a boyfriend just to have a boyfriend.

When we arrived at my home (10 minutes before a huge thunderstorm broke out) he alluded once more to me maybe wanting to stay in his room. However, he was mistaken about the room he was supposed to sleep in.

So when he asked for company in the piano room my mom's auntie (the blonde woman on the right in the photo, who was to stay in the piano room, while my uncle got the computer room) yelled to him "Alright then, you just go ahead and warm the bed, I'll be there in a minute!" and that shut him up.

He also had the idea to take a swim in our pool when we came home, even though there were already huge flashes in the sky and it was only a matter of minutes until the storm would break loose.
He changed his mind when it started to rain, so we did not have to tie him to the ground in order to prevent his balls getting toasted.