There can be no other conclusion besides the fact that I am, officially, lacking full mental capacity

Yesterday the ladies at my office threw me another bridal shower. For those of you keeping score, that's three showers that I've had for this wedding. And three parties that I've been completely and utterly surprised about, to the point of confusion, disorientation, and a few tears. I imagine the moments of walking into these rooms filled with all of my friends and family are probably a lot like a typical experience for late-set Alzheimer's patients, and I'm pretty sure that at 24, I'm supposed to be a little bit sharper than that, especially when I'm sober.

Apparently, for all three of these parties, hints were dropped for weeks in my presence. People accidentally mentioned a key fact while I was in the room, plans to get me to a certain place at a certain time were fuddled, or questions so blatantly obvious were asked AND I NEVER HAD A CLUE. Then, after the initial surprise of being yelled surprise at, I spend a few moments of confusion because why are you guys HERE? What are you DOING? My only conclusion is that I am about as oblivious as a three-year old child. Or a goldfish. Or bacon bits.

Yesterday at 4 p.m. my boss rushed into my office all aflutter and told me I had to go to the basement office to take care of an editing problem someone was having. And I was all "the BASEMENT? The basement NEVER needs our help. I can't go to the BASEMENT,."

Background: My office is a bowling alley that was converted into four floors of offices, plus a basement office that my company splits with a local recording company. I have no doubt that if I had to spend my day working underground, it wouldn't take long before I deteriorated into a pale, shaking, drooling creature with thinning hair.


And then he gave me one of those boss looks that bosses give. Like a boss. And I was all FIIIIINNNNEEE. But then as I was saving my work, I got a phone call from a different basement coworker who needed me to come down for another question related to a blog launch. Naturally, instead of my survival instincts or common sense or whatever it is that people have that make them smart, raising suspicion, I was all "the feck is the matter with the BASEMENT today? GAH."

Then, when I walked downstairs, all the lights were out. Again, no suspicion. First reaction: "The hell? Is the power out down here? What is WRONG with this basement?" But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed Lynda from accounting giggling next to the light switch, and only then did I think that this was a set up.

To kill me. In the basement.

But then the lights came on and everyone yelled surprise and BOY was that awkward. There was cake cutting and congratulations and gift opening but I was still too nervous to drink the punch just in case it had been drugged. But you can bet your buttons I shoved a massive piece of that cake down my gullet and if I die from an arsenic-laced pudding center, so be it. To a McFatterson, the pudding makes it all worth it.

So now I'm not entirely sure what it says about me that a ten days before my wedding, when I find myself in a darkened room filled with smiling ladies, that instead of getting all oh how lovely! They've thrown me a bridal shower, I start reaching for that shiv I made after looting the office supply closet because I don't want to die in the BASEMENT.

Never, even for a second, doubt a room full of women's ability to kill.

Thank you, ladies, for not only sparing my life, but filling me up with sugar and giving me wonderful presents. You surely know the way to my heart. Tweet