Saturday, March 12, 2011

surviving the silent auction (while, let's say, tipsy)

Last year at the silent auction, I was over-served and some serious errors occurred – real amateur moves.

This year, some similar errors were made. (See photos.)

Let's back up. Last year's silent auction.

A. I almost never go out. My life is hermit-like except when we leave town for long chunks of time. Seriously, days pass and I never leave the house. So I'm not accustomed to -- well -- others.

B. I'm a lightweight, I should mention that.

C. I also want to take advantage of an open bar. (Screwed over my whole life by All U Can Eat, my only revenge is KIDS EAT FREE. I try to make up for some lost ground with the democracy afforded us by the Open Bar.)

After two glasses of wine, I was laughing too loud. After three, I'd dabbed my fingers in my wine glass and spritzed my neck -- Did I think it was perfume? Did I want to cool down? This wasn't clear.

Rookie mistake: I blurred my bidding number and basically spent an hour bidding as 302 and the next hour retracing my steps to outbid 302 with 301, my correct number. (Sorry 302, if you ended up with a random salsa lesson.)

And yes I got territorial over a few random items. Which ones? Does it matter in the heat of competition? It’s about winning. And there’s a cause, yes, sure, but it really is about winning. At one point did I say to a friend that I’d like to head-butt that vicious 304 – whoever she is? I did.

I picked up our winnings at the end of the night -- trying not to be surprised by strange items peering up from me in baskets.

Dave loaded up the back of the car. “What the hell is all of that stuff?” he said.

“I swear I saw a bird cage.” We don’t have birds, nor want any.

“ It's just like last year ..." he said.

"Like last year?"

"When I won the deer-gutting equipment and the machete? Remember?" Dave doesn't hunt deer, nor gut it, nor machete things. (I’m actually impressed that he could identify these items in a gift package. We've long since hoisted them off on others who do gut and machete.)

I had no recollection of deer gutting equipment or a machete. Why? Because I was overserved at the silent auction the year before, too, and, I made Dave do pick-up because I’d spritzed one of the volunteers-in-charge with wine -- to make her smell pretty? to cool her off? It was unclear.

I don't bring this up. Instead I said, "Why a bird cage?"

And he said, "Yes! And like a dumb ass, I kept bidding against that viciously insane 301! It was like having a stalker all night. Who the hell was that anyway?"

“Hi,” I said. “Meet your stalker.”


“Yes. Let me guess: 304?”

And we shook hands on our dumbassery.