Frozen babies=Fun for all

Recently I went to a baby shower for my cousin’s wife. 

Normally, I am not a baby shower kind of person.  Frankly, I’m not really even an interact-socially-with-others-whilst-sober-AT-ALL kind of person. 

I’ve only been to four baby showers in my life and they were all for my sister which means that I had the liberty of participating in the food-preparation for these events, which means that I made my “famous” sangria (because I can’t actually “make” anything but mixed drinks) which I then drank entirely by myself which means that I was too drunk to care by the time the party approached the lets-play-ridiculously-silly-games-so-as-to-pass-the-time-and-humiliate-ourselves point.

Ridiculously silly baby shower games decrease your intelligence. 

This is a fact. 

Go ahead.  Google it.  I'll wait.....

See?  Told you so. 

#FACT.

Given the fact that there was no sangria or even just plain wine at my cousin’s wife’s shower AND given the fact that I’ve already come to understand that what little brain cells have not already been damaged by my friend Robert Mondavi need to be preserved and thus protected  from silly baby shower games...

I HID in the car when the baby shower olympics kicked off with the guess-how-fat-the-pregnant-lady’s-belly-is-using-nothing-but-string-and-your-own-unreliable-powers-of-depth-perception game. 

Unfortunately for me, I miscalculated and rejoined the group just in time for the give-birth-to-a-baby-in-ice contest.  Not familiar?  Allow me...

Here’s how it works.

You are presented with an ice-cube into which has been frozen a tiny, naked, plastic baby doll.  Your job is to “birth” the baby by melting the ice around the baby such that the baby is freed from its icy womb by the powers of the physical property changes of water. 

But we’re civilized folk, so there were RULES. 

1) No placing the ice-cube-imprisoned baby in your mouth. 

2) No placing the ice-cube imprisoned baby in the microwave or exposing it to fire, gas, nor electrically powered heat sources.  

AND 

3) The baby has to be completely free of the ice to be considered “born”, so no “hey-most-of-the-important-parts-are-out-who-cares-about-the-left-leg” births. 

Because that, my friends, is CHEATING.

This resulted in an entire room full of frantically rubbing, sucking, fondling, placing-in-strategically-warm-body-crevaces, or otherwise ice-cube molesting women.

Go ahead, close your eyes. 

Picture it.

Did I mention that I did not drive myself to this event?

Did I mention I was smack dab in the middle of the Sierra Nevada mountain chain where there is NO cell phone reception, subway stations, taxi stands, heliports or ALCOHOL?

All avenues of escape were blocked by pine trees, hippies with armpit hair, Volvo’s, and sisters who are enjoying the aforementioned games and don’t want to leave.

And there was no ALCOHOL.

Good times.