Whip It Good
Rare is the opportunity for me to torture Simon in the way he often tortures me: with a surprise. The only trouble is that whereas I dread the unknown (no matter how many times the unknown turns out to be awesome), Simon actually LIKES surprises, the vaguer the better, even (or especially) when it requires a change of clothes and a shower after it's all over.
For this one, all I told him was that the event was taking place in San Francisco on Saturday, that it would require picking up a special something at the grocery store, and that there was a semi-specific dress code. His response? "So, are you going to cover me in plastic wrap and take me to a whip cream party?"
WTF, right? Of all the things in the world to guess completely out of the blue, that's what he says?! Imagine then how pleased he was when at the grocery story on Friday night he learned that the item written on our shopping list as "surprise supplies" translated into three containers of generic Cool Whip.
All week long he kept trying to guess what we were doing, and all week long I kept warning him to stop guessing lest he hit the nail on the head and ruin everything. (Turns out I hate keeping surprises almost as much as I hate them being kept from me.) But by the grace of Simon's ability to keep his mouth shut, we made it all the way to the event before the final reveal, which came in the form of a little girl in goggles and a snorkel, holding a spatula, asking us if we too were going to the food fight.
Part of Maggie Mason's Life List, the food fight was a whole lot of fun, and just the perfect amount of organization and chaos. (There were tarps, there were speeches, there were men in drag, there were doughnuts.)
There's video here courtesy of fellow blogger and East Bayer Vanessa, and if you watch carefully, you'll see us in the background and way off to the side, mostly playing defense for the baby on the grass, who emerged from the fray just whip-speckled enough to be respectable (that is until I gave into my demons and topped him with a generous swirl of Reddi-Whip, something I've been longing to do since he was born, the better to eat him with, of course). Throughout the fight, Wombat was a well-behaved baby indeed, and instead of giving in to his demons by crawling off to find some dog poo to play in, he just sat at the edge of the tarp and licked his fingers for the duration. Good boy.
Some notes in case this sounds like something you'd like to try:
--Even the brand X stuff splats against your opponents with a satisfying THWUMP.
--Tarps are good.
--Nearby hoses are good.
--Non-participant documentarians are good.
--A change of clothes is good.
--Meeting other bloggers, old friends and new, is good.
--Surprise food fights are good if your surprisee is someone easygoing and forgiving like Simon as opposed to foul-mouthed and control-freaky like me.