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Never let it be said that you can’t have a good time with a new set of Tupperware and $17.
We had a couple of events last weekend that included opportunities WR SDUWLFLSDWH LQ UDIflHV and 50-50 drawings. The thing is, I’ve donated and donated over the years to UDIflHV DQG 50-50 GUDWings and I’ve got nothing — nada, nil, zip, squadoosh — to show for my contributions. I never win. Ever.
It’s a different story for The Blonde Accountant. While she can’t manage to hit a winning lottery ticket — mostly because she doesn’t play and we’ve had several discussions over the years to her possibly changing her approach on games of chance — she has an uncanny knack for the old “being in the right place at the right time.”
For example, her ability to get a premium parking spot –—we call it “executive parking” in our family — in every parking lot we’ve HYHU YLVLWHG LV XQFDQQY. $W fiUVW, , thought it was just a coincidence, but it’s been a constant now for several years. No matter how full the mall is around Christmastime, she gets a parking spot three steps from the door. Every. Single. Time.
Buy a lottery ticket for crying out loud, will ya!
So when we went to a youth fashion show fundraiser last weekend — featuring Daughter of Blonde Accountant as one of the models — there were a handful of goodie baskets being UDIflHG RII. 7KHUH WDV nothing that would interest me — lotions and potions, a free prom dress (not my size), an ubox, some other hoo-ha that I didn’t even bother examining and a bunch of bagged and bowed Tupperware.
Now we’ve got more Tupperware in the house than the company has in its entire dadgummed inventory. We appear to have every single piece of Tupperware that’s ever been made. For the record, it is not something that I brought to the marriage, which should surprise approximately nobody. (I brought a toothbrush and a limited, but bad, wardrobe.)
Imagine my surprise, then, when The Blonde Accountant plopped a FRXSOH RI KHU UDIflH WLFNHWV LQWR WKH bag to win the Tupperware.
Before I could say, “vou gotta be bleepin’ me,” she gave me the wave off and I went back to my primary function of shutting up and holding her purse.
Again, it will come as no surprise that fashion shows and the LWHPV UDIflHG RII DW IDVKLRQ VKRWV hold little interest for me. It is at these types of events where the metal chairs become exceptionally hard and my Whining nuotient becomes increasingly dialed up.
But I maintained my composure ORQJ HQRXJK WR PDNH LW WR WKH UDIflH drawing portion of the program.
“Watch, you’re going to win the Tupperware,” I whispered to The Blonde Accountant.”
“No, I never win anything,” she said, which prompted a horse lips from me. It kind of sounded like “Pfffttttt.” Of course, I did it silently under my breath so she couldn’t hear it.
The winning number for the Tupperware — 85246378582874726 — (I think that was the number, I wasn’t really paying attention) was called and whaddya know, The Blonde Accountant just happened to be holding ticket number 85246378582874726.
Of course, I was immediately elected Vice President in Charge of Holding the Tupperware, wrapped in a clear bag with a big ugly bow on it. It is, without question, the ugliest set of Tupperware in the history of Tupperware that we don’t need.
After some more fashion show hoopla and some other gift basket drawings, it was time for the 5050 drawing. And without further ado, the winning ticket just happened to held by guess who? vep, The Blonde Accountant, who by the way did indeed snag the closest parking spot to the front door for this event.
Her take home on the 50-50: A whopping $17, which is $17 more than I’ve ever won in a 5050 drawing.
When all the hubbub surURXQGLQJ WKH ELJ UDIflH WLQV KDG subsided and the event was concluded, there was much kibitzing and congratulating to be done amongst the fashion show participants, their parents and those attending the show.
Some of the more ambitious men in the audience started to put away the metal chairs, but I was in no position to lend a hand because I was left holding a big ugly bag of Tupperware and a purse that didn’t quite match my shoes (see accompanying photo.)
The next evening, I was at anRWKHU HYHQW WKHUH WKH UDIflH SULZes were more to my liking — all Phillies-related stuff, including items autographed by the likes of current players Roy Halladay and John Mayberry Jr. as well as Phillies legend Greg Luzinski.
Fortunately, I was able to keep my nada-nil-zip-squadoosh streak alive by winning nothing. And for good measure, not even coming close on the winning numbers.
It’s just another example, I suppose, of me being left holding the bag.
Mike Morsch is executive editor of Montgomery Media and author of the book, “Dancing in My Underwear: The Soundtrack of My Life.” He can be reached by calling 215-542-0200, ext. 415 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org. This column can also be found at www.montgomerynews.com.
Outta Leftfield Mike Morsch