Ghetto Fabulous

My friend Tina just called and made me laugh so hard that I spewed Diet Coke out of my nose onto my keyboard. (I am given to hyperbole, but I laughed really hard. I may have snorted.) She called me today because she is throwing a baby shower tomorrow and has no idea what the hell she is doing. No menu, no decorations, no ideas, but she has games. And games are a start.

I never notice or feel a difference in our races until moments like this. I gingerly asked her what advice she had gotten so far, and she said “a bunch of black women keep telling me that I need to make collard greens and cornbread, but I’m not trying to feed people Thanksgiving dinner.”

We came up with an acceptable no-cook menu, I found a recipe for blue punch, and I advised her to purchase helium balloons the day of the event, unless she wants to end up swearing and stomping around the house pissed off, just like I did the day of Alicia’s baby shower a few weeks ago.

Before we hung up she told me that she made a mistake by calling her sister who she labeled “ghetto fabulous” for ideas. I would love to work that phrase into more conversations, but it sounds so darn racist. Anyway, her sister’s ideas involved collards and cornbread, a dance contest, and a piñata that spills chocolate (think poop, or boo boo which we call it around here). The thing that sent me over the edge was her idea of putting unwrapped chocolate into diapers to give as favors. I believe the theme of boo boo can be taken too far. Thankfully, Tina does too, so I don’t expect to be carrying home any Pampers filled with melted chocolate tomorrow. And that's a good thing.