Writer’s Note: This blog
post evolved from a Facebook posting.
Kori and Carrie wanted me to write about it and you don’t tell these
women “No”.
I
was engaged in conversation at our annual family picnic, when we were suddenly interrupted
by the enthusiastic exclamation: “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” I looked over to
see a guy in a tank top, 70’s style hair, excessive tats, and large goofy
smile, eagerly extending his hand. I
shook it and introduced myself, not quite as loudly though.
I
had not seen this dude before and I wondered to myself if one of the women folk
had made a questionable choice of new suitors.
Of course I am wondering who he is, but I’m not going to ask for fear of
hearing “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” again.
He
anticipates my question though and says, again enthusiastically, “I’m not even
a member of this family”. Now if I was
crashing a family gathering for let’s say free beer and food, I might keep it on
the down low , but apparently this is not Dave’s style.
We
engaged in some small (very small) talk and at one point Dave mentioned that we
knew a woman who had breasts the size of my head. Now I do have a large head, it needs to be
big to house my large brain and it is shaved. But I don’t appreciate having it
compared to a woman’s breast and the gleam in Dave’s eye when he looked at my
head, frankly made me very nervous.
Dave
soon left and I found out that he was indeed crashing the party. He lived in the campground next to the park
where we had gathered. Carrie later
informed me via Facebook that Dave had pulled the same stunt last year and
labeled him “The serial, drunk, family reunion, party-crasher”.
We
tried to resume our previous conversation but were repeatedly interrupted by
loud outbursts of “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” as he introduced himself to
others standing near to us.
But
I do have to admit, Dave knows how to network and work a room. I can forget people’s names within seconds of
being introduced, but not this time! His name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE! No
business cards needed here!
As
I observed Dave though, I realized he had violated one important networking
rule. He was, as we say in my old
neighborhood, $h!+faced drunk. I would
say he had one too many free beers, but in reality, he was feasting on the free
beer.
I
wasn’t too happy with that but then Dave’s big moment arrived. For the first time ever we decided to get a
group family photo. Of course the
problem with group photos is the person taking the picture is not included in
the photo. But now we had a perfect
solution! Non-family, party-crasher, Dave, would take the photo.
Dave
enthusiastically seized this opportunity. I think he felt some remorse about consuming
all the free food and beer. He thought
if he was able to help us out and take the photo, then it would be a fair
trade. He would have earned his keep.
We
gathered around, happily anticipating this photo opportunity. Dave with a big
smile on his face joyfully framed the group on his camera phone and shot four
pics.
Of
course not one of these photos turned out. Because Dave was $h!+faced drunk. And so we all learned a valuable lesson that
day:
“Never
let the most drunk person at your party take the group photograph”
These
are truly words to live by. We violated
this rule and now we have no group photo, and coincidentally, there was no
leftover beer.
Okay, your family is far more accommodating than my husband's family (you don't want to know) and I know someone in my maternal line would have invited him to leave. Heavens, my mother would have blocked him from the beer. Never interfere with a German and their beer. It's a cardinal rule.
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