I also later found out from one of the other “participants” that by wrapping them in clear paper, it made it much easier to return unwanted, un-needed, or duplicate gifts directly to the store, because it showed the gift had not been opened. They had a sheet cake, a punch bowl of punch made with frozen mix and ginger ale, and that was it. There was no gift opening or acknowledgement, no baby games, nothing. We all just filled out our thank you cards, put our gifts on or around a table, and then the guests talked with each other, and then we left. I don’t think the Mommy-to-be even said a word to me.
My girlfriend at the time got me into crossdressing. She dared me to walk a city block, downtown during lunch hour with a short skirt, no panties! Just garter belt & hose underneath. So there i was. Wig on, big fake tips, tight top, mini skirt, garters, hose, no panties & makeup on. She let me out at stoplight. Of course I had to stand on the corner like a hooked before the light changed for me to cross & fulfill my dare! Walking slowly because not being use to wearing heels. I made my way down the block. Getting lots of stares from people knowing that my ass cheeks were just visible Below the skirt.
I get to the end & wait for about 5 minutes before she finally pulls up & let’s me in. Laughing out load! Couldn’t believe I’d go thru with it! Whish we had taken pics, but unfortunately didn’t. Would have lived to have my pic taken ,while dressed like that, under this sign for vacuum repair place. Sign read, “ doesn’t suck! We can fix that!” One of my relatives, a farmer, once came home to find that the farmhouse had been broken into. He went round the house quickly, and the only items that were missing were his rifle and the ammo (like most farmers, he had a gun – and a gun permit. He was a WW2 vet so he knew how to shoot too).
The message was from my uncle, and it ran: ‘I’ve broken into your home and stolen your gun, and tonight I’m going to come back and shoot you with your own gun’. My uncle was probably planning to stage the murder like a suicide (farmers are one of the profession with the highest incidence of suicide in France – bankruptcies galore, and it the lenders repossess the farm, they lose their home as their well as their business) but as you can tell from the fact that he’d left a voicemail, he is not very bright: he was 3 years behind at school. He is very fit physically though, and has a history of violence, from childhood onwards. In fact he is so violent that even the French army didn’t want him: they kicked him out, after diagnosing him with psychopathy.
My relative called the police (or rather the gendarmerie – my uncle’s side of the family have connections with the police so you cannot expect any help from them), they came over, listened to the voicemail, then went looking for my uncle. They found him a couple of kilometres away, sitting in his car with the gun and the ammo. My relative didn’t want yet to make the existing family feud worse (it’s a long story, spanning several generations – it goes back to the 19th century) so he decided not to press charges.
At the time, I worked in the finance office of a business, and was working at my desk when our major donor fundraiser comes stalking into the office to meet with our Finance Director. Her slave – sorry, assistant – wasn’t in the office just then, running an errand or something for her, and since she considered me the low rung on the totem pole, I became her target. (For reference, I was the assistant controller of the company, but to be honest, I’m not quite sure she ever realized that about me, despite the fact we worked another 5 or so years together after this; she saw somebody typing things into a computer, therefore I was lesser.