Boy, did you ever nail it my friend! (Way to put into words what I can’t figure out how to!) 
Canceling one anal surprise for Mr. Blue Sky.
Well, no one has ever thrown me a party of any kind whatsoever. I didn’t get a wedding shower. I didn’t get a baby shower. If I don’t plan my own birthday get togethers, they won’t happen.
I keep wanting to have a party for my husband when it’s his birthday, but the only people he knows in this state are the people he works with, and I don’t know them 
Me, I love presents. I love getting them and I love giving them. I love the mystery/surprise aspect of them the best. I love seeing someone’s reaction to getting them. I love doing unexpected things for the hell of it. Once, I was dating this guy… big, tall guy, long hair, tattoos, ex-con. He worked in the kitchen at a comedy club. I had a rose in a bud vase delivered to him at work. He said it was hilarious watching all the waitresses gossiping about which one of them it must be for… only to see it marched back to the big scary guy in the kitchen ;D
I’ve never had anything thrown for me, either. In fact, my friends are a bunch of fucks. A couple years ago, I had a birthday right before I was due to ship off for the military, so I knew I would be gone a long, long time.
I decided to throw a party so my friends could say both “happy birthday” and “goodby”.
The only people who bothered to show up were a couple guys I barely knew.
I was never big on parties to begin with, and I don’t like getting presents for the most part, but I do enjoy a good kegger for absolutely any reason at all.
Bleh. Well, whatever.
My wife hates surprises, being a control freak too: she can’t even let a poor TV show air without spoiling it (Yes, I’m thinking Buffy here).
So this Christmas I bought her and the baby gifts that she didn’t know about, wrapped them, and put them under the tree around 3:00am Christmas morning.
She said it was the best Christmas she has had since a child.
Nothing like throwing a suprise birthday party for someone turning 40 and when the birthday person gets to the front door someone in a grim reaper costume opens the door and says, “You’re late. And will probably get later.”
Were we separated at birth? Oh, no, wait . . . you’re almost 25, I’m almost 33. That wouldn’t work. At any rate, I feel you, Sister.
As for other surprises, well . . . I hate them, too. Not all of them, just the ones that make you feel all pressured to react in a certain way that might not be how you feel (i.e., elated when you’re really pissed). Plus I have a way of ruining surprises by failing to follow whatever “decoy plan” was supposed to lead up to the surprise; I show up at the wrong place, or decide at the last minute that I think I’ll scrap the established plan and clean my house instead . . .
. . . and then the next thing I know I’m confronted with a shit load of people who are angry at me for ruining my surprise! (My parents are notorious for this; they once drove to Atlanta from Kansas in a brand new car to surprise me . . . well, I knew they were coming (the surprise part was the new car, which was for me), but figured that they’d call and leave a message on my machine when they arrived at their hotel and I’d go over there to see them (as usual), so I wasn’t at home when they came straight to my house instead. They went all over town–to my school, to my job, etc. (I, meanwhile, had skipped class and gone to the IHOP)–looking for me to surprise me with the car, and boy were they pissed when they finally found me! And also when I told them to take the car right on back home with them–I was irrevocably attached to my old, clunky Escort, and had no desire for a new car. I was young. :rolleyes: )
Hey, I just noticed the new smiley! Now THERE’s a good surprise! :dubious:
My surprise party from hell story happened when I was leaving a company to move on to bigger and better things, and they took me out to dinner at a steak place. They had a big table set up for me, and I sat at the head. I got up to go the potato bar and when I got back there was a chick in a bathrobe and hairnet there who started cussing at me. She’s making all these bawdy jokes about my sexual performance and how I left her at the altar. At the end of her rant she rips off her robe and is wearing tight lingerie, high heels and fishnet stockings and makes me take off her red garter with my teeth. Turns out my friend Todd had arranged it through Monkey Business and they sent the Mad Hussie after me. This in front of all my bosses and coworkers. Whoopee.
A friend of mine had a similar surprise party from hell for his birthday. His mother was friends with a flamboyantly gay hairstylist, and together they decided to give the birthday party a Flintstones theme. John told me when he got home, they yelled SURPRISE and took his picture. He said in the picture he’s gaping and just plain horrorstruck, because it was the tackiest thing he had ever seen in his life. All the guests were dressed in Flintstones style costumes. There were balloons shaped like rocks and caveman clubs. There were streamers with all the cartoon character faces hanging from them. The punch was called Yabba Dabba Dew. They tried to get him to dress up like the Flintstones, but he refused to go along with it.
I learned never to tell anybody anything after that.
Jesus. Don’t you think you are over reacting a bit to what was probably an innocuous comment? The phrase “You’re no fun” is used so often in making social arangements that it has almost become a cliche. Are you always this touchy? What’s hanging out with you like? I can imagine it now:
“You could at least try the Mu Shu pork.”
“Well fuck me for not living up to your culinary standards. I certainly appreciate that you are trying to feed me, but YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I DON’T LIKE CHINESE FOOD! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT!”
My husband is the same way and really doesn’t like surprises. His friends in NY threw him a surprise party last night- he thought he was playing a birthday party gig, but the party was actually for him. I knew it, and I wished the planner had never told me, because then I was caught in the “tell or don’t tell” dilemma. Happily,he called me yesterday afternoon and said “I guess they’re having a surprise party for me tonight- Dave already told me. He didn’t know it was a surprise”. Whew!
I love surprises, frankly, but not embarassing “stripper at the table” kinds. This Christmas I expected to be presentless due to my living arrangements (staying with a friend, husband back in NY), and was surprised to find that Santa visited on Christmas Eve and brought a whole load of presents. It was delightful.
At the same time, while I love surprises, my husband hates them so I avoid surprising him. No biggie. Different strokes.
Blue Sky – why don’t you take control of the situation by planning your birthday party yourself and inviting all your friends to your bash? You will be in charge of chosing the time, place, food, activities – everthing. That is so obvious, so simple, so straight-forward! You will not be caught off guard by any surprises, and your friends will still have a party. I think the birthday person himself should host the party.
From the OP:
I have already decided that I do not want any kind of anything to commemorate the event.
Reading is fundamental!
If it had been the first time she said it, I wouldn’t have minded it. This happens with her AND everybody else when the subject of “fun” comes up. The number of occurences now number in the hundreds.
Catch the clue train, folks, you can ride for free.
Thanks, Legomancer, for catching that one for me.
Shortly after we started sharing an apartment, when we were still at the “just friends” stage, she who is now my wife decided to throw a surprise party for me. My birthday that year was on Friday but we had decided (I thought) to just spend a quiet evening at home; when I got in from work the apartment was empty, so I just figured she was working late. It was hot and the apartment was not air-conditioned, so I stripped to my shorts and put on a robe and slippers. I was thinking of starting supper when the phone rang. It was the future Mrs. L, who was across the courtyard at a friends’ apartment; they were thinking of sending out for Chinese food and had invited us to join them. I described my current attire and told her that I didn’t feel like getting dressed again just to go across the courtyard and eat. She kept insisting and finally I agreed to come over. When I got there, it turned out that all our friends were there and it was a surprise birthday party.
Fortunately, I had decided to get dressed before I went over; I had almost just dashed across the courtyard in my robe and slippers. Now THAT would have been a surprise party; particularly since the robe I had been wearing was a thin cotton one that, as they say, covered without concealing. :eek:
For as long as this thread has been on the first page, I also have been scanning it as “I don’t like anal surprises” or “I like anal, don’t be surprised” or something equally twisted.
I don’t want to turn this into a big clusterfuck, but if someone said “You could at least try the Mu Shu pork” after I specifically SAID I didn’t like Chinese food, after I specifically said “No thank you, I don’t want it, leave me be”, I might react exactly as you described.
Maybe that makes me (or whover) an over-reacting bitch, but how many times do you have to say “no” before it counts? How many ways can you say “no”, before people let it go? No means no. Learn it. Know it. Live it. Someone says “no”. Why is there further discussion? Why must I (collective) “must try” the Mu Shu pork? No, I must not. Bottom line. Leave it be.
We’ve gone round and round in the Pit before about this, specifically about being offered food that someone doesn’t care for or want. Let people make their own decisions (about surprise parties or any other issue) and leave them alone, for the love of cheese!
Zette – I’m 100% with you on that one. And my absolute favorite is one that I’ve despised since childhood:
“How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t even tried it?”
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. :mad:
My father, who thinks he’s Emeril Lagasse or something, used to make these exotic concoctions and pester me to try them. He would refuse to let on what was in them because he knew I wouldn’t eat it then, inevitably containing at least one ingredient I despised. He always assured me that once I tried it, I would learn to love octopus or whatever. Gee thanks, Dad, as tempting as this sounds, I think I’l pass.
I’m with ya, Suspenderzzzzzzzz…(shit, I fell asleep there!)
What I hate is that I eat very little sugar because I CAN’T. Repeat, CAN’T. It’s not that I want to insult people, but there’s always some asshole around that when they offer you a box of donuts and you say “No thank you” start that shit. “Whassamatter, you on a diet? What, you dont’ LIKE donuts? Come on, one won’t kill you”. Guess what? I fucking said NO, and you’re about to get a donut colonic, my friend.
Same for surprises/singing Happy Birthday in a restaurant/hiring strippers for occasions: If the person says NO, then respect their wishes for the love of God and don’t take it upon yourself to talk them into it! They’re adults, and as such know their likes and dislikes. Let it go and be a bigger person then that.
Personally, I think that people who try to force things on others through embarassment or inappropriate prodding are usually after control. It’s like a battle of wills or something. Ridiculous.
Man, I can sooo sympathise with many of the postings in this thread.
Are we related? 
truthbot’s high-school horror story is appalling. The mother clearly decided that her own pleasure in executing the ‘celebration’ was more important than the shame and humiliation the experience inflicted on the daughter.
And make no mistake… even without the evil-minded ‘practical-joke’ mentality, birthday celebrations can be humiliating indeed. Not all of us are jovial extroverts who thrive in the spotlight. The mere act of being singled out, even for a ‘good’ thing, is exquisitely painful to some. You may with to read some of the phys-ed horror stories to get an idea of why.
Now, some people may reply, “But it’s just a party! Why can’t we have fun with our friend?”. The answer is simple:
Exactly. It’s called “paying attention to the wishes of others”. It’s called “politeness” and “respect”, people.
[hijack]
I remember reading this in the newspaper when I was a kid.
A woman had spent the entire day at the beach, came home and realized she was pretty sunburned.
Took a cold shower, covered her body with noxema for the burn and went to sleep in her apartment. Naked.
A little while later the phone rings.
The phone was in the living room.
She runs out naked to get it.
Lights go on!
Surprise!
Happy Birthday!
Wheeeeee what fun!
Friends had snuck in right after she went to sleep and did their thing.
[/hijack]
I was subjected to a surprise party once. The event taught me two things: I have more friends than I think and, under extreme flusteration, I forgot all of their names.