My friend Dale has a party every year to commemorate his birth. They are not normal parties like you or I would have where a group of friends gather for dinner and drinks. His are just a little different. There’s always a dress code. The room is bustling with skinny girls 20 years my junior with asses for days. There are usually some surprises – like half-naked dancers, robots with smoke guns, women wearing dresses made from bottles of alcohol and other things that probably require city permits.
I’ve talked about him several times on the blog and have actually covered his last couple of birthday parties….because they are that epic and warrant press coverage. I basically get the exclusive every year. You can kind of say that I am his official blogger.
I actually know that he considers me a true friend (which is fair since I have known him for 20+ years and we have had our share of adventures) because I’m still invited even though I am old compared to the overwhelming majority of the guest list. There’s actually a small group of us V.O.P.s (Very Old People) who stick together and adult in the corner somewhere probably talking about shit like our mortgages, kids and gas prices.
So last night was the annual birthday celebration and it actually had an official name – The Black and White Cookie Party. The dress code was for women to be in white and men in black. Which is so unfair to begin with to an almost 40-yr old-woman. I mean, we all know black is the slimming color. White is basically for women who have no cellulite and have not birthed a child. But I listened because I am a rule follower (most of the time) and I want to remain on the invite list without rocking the boat.
The party was set to be a 23-square-foot mansion with a pool bigger than my home, owned by someone with a name eerily similar to King Jaffe Joffer from Coming to America.
I’ll admit, I was a little more excited about the house than the party for a hot minute. Seriously…when would you ever walk into a 23,000-square-foot house in your life?
But let’s talk about the invite for a second so I can point out some of the inherent differences in a party a normal person would have. You guys…there’s a hashtag, a sponsor and the option to bring swimwear. That’s like Yeezy-level shit. Can you effing imagine the looks I would have gotten if I busted out my swimwear – a momkini with a big, billowy cover-up and monogrammed baseball hat?
But my dreams were quickly shattered as this house was on the naughty list for throwing too many raucous parties, so there was a last-minute venue change. If this happened to me, I would literally panic and take all the xanax, but Dale is different. He’s not a white, Jewish girl predisposed to anxiety (even though he has soft spot in his heart for them), so he rolled with it and had his people (let it be noted he has people) send out information with the new deets.
With all the uber talk, I got nervous and even checked with him about parking when I realized there would be walking, because that greatly affects shoe choice. You can’t rock car to curb Louboutins if you have to hoof it even 500 yards, am I right?
So it was on to a different mansion and the good news was that this one was on the water, so now we have the option to take a boat…as our host so conveniently points out in the update below (sidenote: there were more updates for this party than a CNN ticker and as someone who is Type A, that’s totes my jam). My boat, unfortunately, was in the shop so it was a no-go but the good news was that there was a shuttle from where we were told to park. Also, mad props for the reminder not to get into random cars – my neurotic mother would give you a gold star.
And this was the exact moment I realized that Dale incorporated a scavenger hunt into his party this year! Super fun!!
That informative map with the pin above that says “park here” may seem super cut and dry, but it’s a giant mall. Soooooo, we pulled into one of the multiple parking lots and started the scavenger hunt. We looked for other people in black and white. We searched for clues. Polled mall security. And looked high and low for the elusive shuttle…then we we found it!
Just kidding, that wasn’t it, but after we parked, we picked up a stray dressed in white, added her to our wolfpack and walked into a neighborhood where google maps on our phone told us to go.
Yay! We found it and the birthday boy (oh, and the “shuttle” BTdubs which was parked in the driveway of the house which did us no good.)
We soaked in the balmy 95 degree breezes from the intracoastal and sucked on ice chips like women in labor to stay cool. Dale is after all, a Miami Heat personality so for all we know the “heat” was a chic and purposeful part of the theme? I quickly mobilized for pictures before the facade broke down and I still looked cute and the jew fro emerged. It’s like being effing Cinderella and getting the good shots in before the clock strikes midnight and you turn into a pumpkin.
We even took an updated picture because these two wanted to prevent me from using the old one of the three of us from a Dale party back in the day, but how can I possibly retire that?
My friend Karen and I took a little stroll to check out the house. You know to look at the finishes, crown molding, flooring and piece de resistance…
Guys, the toilet came fully equipped with contraption to hose yourself down. This house had EVERYTHING. From going above and beyond in the bathroom…
To a refreshment table that was ON FLEEK!
No but seriously, there was amazing music, a bar, black and white cookies and Dale…which is ALL you really need to pull of a great party.
Happy birthday buddy! I love you lots and you will forever be my side chocolate. I can’t wait to see what next year has in store!