Friday, September 5, 2008

Parties and Their Favors

Beyond a nine year old's birthday party, I'm not sure I get the fascination with party favors. I suppose when there is a gift exchange involved, which there frequently is at a wedding, it's not totally nonsensical. It's a reciprocity thing, wrapped up into the feasting that you lavish on your guests. They bring you prezzies and provide an audience so you feel like what you're doing is really important in the grand scheme of things, and you give them food, drink, and matchbooks with your name on them in ornate silver lettering.

Poking around the "blogosphere" today, I did a search for "bitching brides," hoping to find examples of nuptial grousing about the process, still on something of a 'bridal disasters and tantrums' kick. As it happens, there is a team blog called exactly that: "Bitching Brides." All told, it's really not that interesting, but that may just be because it seems to be a recent addition to the Land 'o Blogs. There is one reference to the doubtful wisdom of having a "chocolate fountain" in your wedding buffet when your bridal party includes six flower girls. Never mind the obvious imagery. Who does chocolate fountains anymore? And six flower girls? Isn't there a point when you are 'low' enough down in the social hierarchy that this sort of ostentation starts to smell like posing? It seems that anything ranking below a baronet should probably tone it down with the petal stewing cherubim. Three tops, people.

Anyway, what did catch my eye somewhat more profoundly -- if one can call it that -- in this Bitching Brides blog was a post by a woman who made her own bath salt party favors. She mixed up the blue-dyed ingredients, put them into glass soda bottles with tight fitting caps, and labeled them with a picture of her and her groom. Bath salts? Okay, whatever, as they say, but here's the thing; her concoction was a mixture of Epsom salts, bright blue dye, scented oil and baking soda, and the containers were airtight. Before too many days, this Molotov mixture was going off all over town and beyond in the homes of her guests. I would consider exploding party favors a portent. Mount St. Helen's blew her top the morning after my first wedding. Whatever happens, if any sort of explosions are associated with this next one, I'm going to stew.

Speaking of parties, today is this groom's 50th birthday. ¡Feliz cumpleaƱos, Senor Peligroso!


Dee said...

Happy Birthday, "Arm Candy"! He he.

Remind me to tell you of the three signs I was given before my now ill-fated wedding - should've heeded those omens, but didn't! I had three stitches removed from my shin the day before I got married (I'd received the stitches about about 10 days before); I was married with a black eye from a not-quite caught softball; and my groom-to-be had to wait for a locksmith until 1am the night before our 8am flight in order to get into my car (where my wedding dress and shoes were stored) since his brother's friend broke my key in the lock.

Wouldn't you say I should've paid attention? LOL

MisAnthropology said...

Trouble in three's has got to be at least as prophetic as explosions.