Today was listed as, Drinking Straw Day, J. R. R. Tolkien Day, Festival of Sleep Day, Fruitcake Toss Day and Humilation Day. I did my best to celebrate all of these and the only one I couldn’t accomplish was Drinking Straw Day. Sorry, the places we ate today, just didn’t have straws. We were in Montmarte and it was cute and fancy. And apparently cute and fancy means strawless. But I did successfully accomplish all of the other days. Get jazzed.
I’ll start with Festival of Sleep Day. This morning we were supposed to wake up and get on with the day and we didn’t we slept. We were le tired and we didn’t feel super awesome. We didn’t even realize we were celebrating until later. So go team! My extra hours of sleep were much needed and clearly a sign that Paris rules. Moving on, sorry Festival of Sleep Day was short, but the other celebrations are hilarious.
J. R. R. Tolkien Day was clearly one of the days that I was most excited for. I am a huge Lord of the Rings nerd. I was talking to Brittany about how I could document my celebration of Tolkien Day and this was the conversation we had:
Me: I need a large staff so I can say YOU SHALL NOT PASS.
Me: You know, when Gandalf is getting ready to fight the Balrog and he slams the staff down and says YOU SHALL NOT PASS!
Brittany: Blank stares….. Laughs…..
Me: thinking this is the beginning of Humiliation Day……
Anywho, I didn’t create a diversion, I didn’t look to the East at dawn, I didn’t keep anything secret or keep it safe, I didn’t reforge any swords BUT I did wear my most Lord of the Rings looking outfit. I looked just like Eowyn. But with less awesome hair, and less sword skills, and less creepy Grima.
I know that some of you have no idea what that meant. Those of you who did, congratulations. You are now my favorites. If you didn’t, you have several thousand pages of reading to do or 12+ hours of movies to watch and you better watch the extended edition.
So I wore my Eowyn dress. That sort of s0unds like a medieval fair costume, but I promise I was looking awesome. (You can see my Eowyn dress in my Fruitcake Toss Day pictures).
And now, the crowning jewel of January 3rd, Fruitcake Toss Day. I purchased a small fruitcake yesterday in order to get my celebration on. I loathe fruitcake, but I had to celebrate. I had a really hard time deciding how I should most creatively toss the fruitcake. A final decision was made. I was going to toss fruitcake into a wine glass, similar to the game of washers. So we set up the glass in the hall of our hotel and I began tossing.
I very quickly learned that I have horrendous aim. I made a large mess of fruitcake in the hall and didn’t get anything in the glass. And then we heard a noise and ran back inside our room. I then set up the glass on a chair in our room and tossed the fruitcake. I made it. The following pictures will document my success and my Eowyn dress.
And now, Humiliation Day. I am not so jazzed about sharing this story, but it is one of my most humiliating life moments. So here goes. I’m awkward just writing about this.
So, once upon a time, when I was in the 8th grade, my dad told a story at dinner. I was not present at this dinner, for I was but a lowly 8th grader. This dinner was in the company of our closest family friends. Friends that, at the time, I thought were way older and way cooler and should definitly not be the recipients of any sort of embarrassing Kate Beard story.
My parents return home from this dinner around the corner and my mom has a look. It’s the same look when she has a hilarious story to tell me, which is often, because my mom is hilarious. But for some reason I knew this would not be so hilarious….. and it wasn’t.
She proceeds to tell the following story: “Well at dinner everyone was asking what I looked like when dad and I started dating. Your dad proceeds to tell everyone to just imagine Kate in a purple bikini.”
I respond: “Wh.. he… wha… what did he say?????”
She repeated the story.
I respond: “Wh..ehwee…. what did they saay???”
She kindly told me that they thought it was just hilarious. And that several responses were: “Ok!” and “Are you sure about that?”
How could my father throw me under the bus in front of this family? Especially, when they were older and cooler than me!! I was devestated and humiliated and frazzled.
At this point I thought that my small feeble 8th grade existence had surely been obliterated by my father. My cheeks were flushing 1,000 shades of red, which they tend to do when provoked. My mom assured me that I was fine at that I was going to be able to show my flushed face again. I doubted it.
But she was right. I eventually got cool enough to be invited to dinner. And I eventually got over the purple bikini story. We still tell this story and now I think it’s hilarious, because it is. But I can honestly say that was the most humiliated I had ever felt.
So there’s that. That was a lot of holidays.
I will never own a purple bikini.