While he was in town, my parents threw him a graduation dinner at a local pizza joint. To be perfectly honest, I think it was more of a party for them; the guest list was severely tipped in their favor. However, my brother got to choose the invitations, which he picked up at the party outlet store, that read COME TO MY LINGERIE PARTY!
I didn't make that up.
We had about 50 people on the list, most of whom are colleagues and friends of our parents (and some of whom are on the Auntie Patrol) and they each received a hand-written pink invite in the shape of a lacy camisole. My brother is the only person I know in real life who can get away with shenanigans like that. He will shrug his shoulders, smirk and hand you a card that says HAPPY BAR MITZVAH for your birthday or one with LA ABUELA MÁS FABULOSA on Father's Day. Somehow it works for him; people find it absolutely hilarious. I couldn't get away with it. I guess that charm gene must have skipped over me and given him a double dose.
So what did the guests do when they got those invites besides laugh? Poetic justice: They brought him skivvies.
There were Jockey shorts, lacy panties and even a sparkly thong with rhinestones that spelled out "Fabulous." And my mom's friend made a delicious half-chocolate/half–vanilla-and-strawberry cake in the shape of a bra and panties in my brother's school colors. But the best gift of all was from his long-time nurse, who has seen him through various surgery recoveries since he was in junior high. She made a long trip to be there and brought her four-year-old son. And she presented the new grad with a tiny pair of Underoos and a card estimating they're probably pretty close to my brother's size with a post script apologizing because they are used.
My mom gave a sweet speech in which she named nearly everyone in the room individually and thanked them for being there for us all these years: canceling work meetings to come and donate blood for my brother's surgeries, bringing food and hugs and prayers to the hospital, picking up slack for her so she could stay with him in the hospital for weeks at a time and letting her cry on their shoulders. She had nearly everyone in the room wiping their eyes.
It was a lovely party. We all felt pretty proud of the kid and I think all the guests had a good chuckle watching him open package after package of ridiculous underwear. But don't feel too bad for the little brat—along with all the undies, he got a fancy used car from my parents.
That's awesome! :)
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great party! Cake, tear-squeezing speeches and underwear. w00t!
ReplyDeleteThat is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteBTW, my husband always does that as well, picking out cards in Spanish or an "I'm sorry for your loss" for birthdays and holidays. I would never dare.
I love it! A real grown-up has lots of underwear, because it stretches out the time between laundry days.
ReplyDeleteThat is hilarious! I dig your bro.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what he'll do with the lacy undies :-D
ReplyDeleteCongratulations, Cadiz's bro, you're a true fighter.