Wally, Pong, and Chow

What says Christmas better than a hideous moustache and a sweater even your mom wouldn’t be caught dead in? The answer perhaps is a Sabin fest that incorporates not only both of these foul abominations but also some seasonal classics, white elephant gifts and overeating, along with a couple nontraditional holiday pastimes, ping pong and wallyball. The result of this unusual combination? A party of such repugnant, yet satisfying, proportions that a word more disgusting than disgusting would have to be added to the dictionary to adequately portray its disgustingness.

The food for our party was catered from Zupas and Kneaders: creamy soups, fresh rolls, gooey brownies, chocolate dipped strawberries, and giant gingerbread men. I don't think anyone left hungry.
No comment.

Although last year’s moustache and unsightly sweater party was a cringe fest, our friends, it turns out, liked that repulsive theme so this year we brought tacky back like a barfing kid on a merry-go-round.

Can you figure out what is going on in this picture? If so, you must be a photograph deciphering savant.
The girls packed together for a picture of their own. I must say, we are much more photogenic than those silly boys.

For this event Jason and I rented a suite of rooms at Noah’s that included a wallyball court, ping pong arena, and chow station. We, along with our collected friends, played ping pong until we were dizzy and then wallyball until our forearms burned. If we ever began feeling even slightly exercised we recommenced eating so our belt straps were the only things overly exerted. And once we had consumed our weight in cookies and grown tired of tossing balls we fought over the prettiest awful white elephant gifts ever.

Jacob overheated playing wallyball even with half of his belly hanging beyond the confines of his undersized sweater. So, like a little boy, he just removed that offending article of clothing and ran around in various stages of toplessness. He wore Jason's itchy vest briefly before deciding he preferred no shirt at all.

Maybe baby Jesus didn’t anticipate ugly attire and gluttony heralding in the arrival of his birthday every year but hey, what a birthday party! Here’s to the nauseating traditions that make Christmas so dang memorable!

Mr. Darcy Likes to Party!

That creepy time of year was just here and another Halloween meant another Sabin Halloween party. We did it again and it was just as much work and amusement as always.

This year it was my turn to decide our costumes. I have long wanted to go as characters from one of my favorite books, Pride and Prejudice, so that’s what I chose.
My hairdresser did my Bennet do. She’s a big Austen fan so I knew my strands were in good hands.
Jason looked yummy dressed as Mr. Darcy. Good thing because his costume was quite the pain to sew. Most of its components were made from actual 1800’s patterns since they were my only option. I basically had to create my own modern instructions for these antique designs.

We had a great turnout of friends and family. They all came clad in their best disguises ready to flaunt their haunt.

Making the same decorations look different each year is always a challenge. I guess we succeeded this time because several of our guests commented on all the “new” items we had bought.
Jason turned our basement ceiling into a billowing tapestry of festive lights.
My recipe for creepy: skulls, crows, spiders, moss, and crispy dead flowers.

Bingo was popular once again with both adults and children. We played enough rounds that those who walked away with a prize or two outnumbered the luckless.

Jeremy took home the prize for best dressed with his energetic portrayal of the Nyan Cat.
The beaten and disemboweled pinata somehow ended up on Matt’s head.
Lauren came as Buddy, my favorite elf. She won 3rd place in the costume contest so obviously others favor that north pole homeboy as well.

The kiddies were as eager to bat the piñata as ever. I don’t think there is a child out there that doesn’t enjoy smacking something with a stick until its insides gush out.

The Ashleys depicted Tobias from Arrested Development with an assortment of peculiar outfits.
This year our skeletons painted the cemetery red with their spooky spirits and party hats.
Our nephew Jadon rocked his DJ Lance Rock outfit.

The costume contest was pretty cutthroat this year. I was very impressed with the fabulous and creative attire concocted by many of our guests. In the end Jeremy Rowley took home the prize for best dressed with his original and disturbing portrayal of the Nyan Cat but there were a lot of other contestants that gave him a run for his rainbow.

Our talking harvester may be a little too scary for the average youngster so we made sure there was plenty of distance between him and our door.
We converted our living room into the halls of Hogwarts. The little kids thought the transformation was charming.
I gave our front room a ghostly wash with a monochromatic palette.

It was a fun night that only took months of prep work to put together and, if all goes well, in a few weeks our house may be nearly back to normal.

Who says beards and heels aren’t a perfect combo? Penny’s costume won 2nd place so I guess they nearly are.
Carley and James came as a comedic duo: a banana and a whoopee cushion.
This sinister scene set the mood as guests entered our spooked-out home.

Many thanks to all of you who rocked our get-together. We love giving our friends, and ourselves, an excuse to dress up and celebrate the scary.

Matt and Tabatha survived the zombie apocalypse only to be defeated in the best group category by one vote.
The Kreepy Klubhouse was meant for the tiny kiddies but it became “the party house” after half a dozen adults sardined themselves into it.

So come on Darcy let’s go party!

The Filthy Mudbloods

There comes a time in the life of every runner when they need to leave the well kept sidewalks of the world behind and plunge right into the pigsty!

Jason and I, along with four of our compadres, did the dirty this year. The Dirty Dash is a 10K mud race that sends you scrambling through and over all sorts of obstacles including: muck-filled ditches, giant hay bales, soggy tunnels, impossibly high walls, mud pits, a sludgy lake, and of course the slop ‘n slide. Running doesn’t get any messier than this or any more comical!

I love that the bibs for this race listed not only your team number but also group and individual names.

We christened our team “The Filthy Mudbloods.” If you have read the Potter books you’re probably chuckling right now and, if you haven’t, you’re mostly likely shaking your head in bewilderment. I’m not explaining so just keep shaking your noggins or look it up on Wikipedia.

Our group made Hogwarts student hats, which were equipped with elastic bands to keep them on our heads, so the whole world would know that we are magically dork-a-licious. Additionally, Jason kindly sculpted wands for everyone out of wooden dowels. We kept them out and at the ready to obliterate any obstacles in our path as we ran, skipped, crawled, and trudged along. Although we did cast spells in concert as we threw ourselves at impediments, team problem solving proved slightly more useful to our cause than magic, howbeit less entertaining.

I had to have synchronized assistance on both sides of these walls to make it over. Luckily, the men were unusually helpful in this circumstance.
Abigail torpedoed out of her slide chute as catawampus as the rest of us.

Yes, we worked together and helped each other along using any means at our disposal: brute force, stabilizing hands, or just good old-fashioned encouragement. Admittedly, I was probably less helpful than most since I have the upper body strength of a gerbil but, thankfully, the men in our group harnessed their inner Neanderthal and picked up the slack. They offered themselves as steppingstones to propel the weaklings, like myself, over some of the hurdles we encountered. They also selflessly volunteered their assistance in the form of mud-flinging ambushes. There’s nothing like having an enormous glob of muck tossed at your head by one of your teammates to enliven you and expedite your devolution.

Jason's belly practically had its own river system when he emerged from the slop 'n slide. I guess some tummy gravel is just deserts for being determined to go headfirst.
Jeremy, like Jason, slipped down the slide headfirst. Yes, it hurt him too.

We had an unimaginably good time tramping through chest-high rank waters, balancing on thin boards precariously positioned above sloshing pits, and catapulting ourselves over towering walls. Of course, afterwards we literally had to be hosed off with a pressure washer to remove all of our dirt clumps. I took three showers and one bath on the day of the race and I still felt like I had woken up on the wrong side of the pigpen. You’d be surprised by how much grime can hide in your earlobes or unmentionable places.

Run, run as fast you can. You can't catch him he's the mud-splattered man!
A grimy grin on a mud-streaked face: incontrovertible evidence of a dirty good time.

In addition to the dirt farm you are forced to cultivate between your toes, in order to participate in this filth festival you must make one other sacrifice to the mire gods. For some reason encasing yourself in mud, running through murky water, sliding through soil, etc., etc., etc. sends your body into some sort of hypothermic state. You don’t notice it while you are intent on the race and frolicking about but shortly after you stop it all catches up to you and you become colder than you can remember being in your life, so chilled that you get a backache from the fierce shivers that are convulsing through your body. Brr!!!

While the rest of us opted not to cannonball into a mud pit, we all appreciated Jeremy's enthusiasm...even if it splashed us a lot.
And just kept on splashing us...

But, even with those scruples, would I recommend this race? Does a pig answer to the call of suey? If you run the dirty you will become grimier than you ever have been in your life x 100. You will not feel clean after multiple scrubbings and you will be inexplicably drained after all is said and done. But you will get to spend roughly an hour and 45 minutes* grinning from ear to ear while you unabashedly do all the things your mother always told you not to. So yes, I would definitely recommend The Dirty Dash and I plan on doing it again next year.

Our team definitely became filthy enough to deserve its Filthy Mudbloods title.

*Please note that this time estimate assumes a standard allotment of halting for mud chucking. Actual times may vary depending on personal hurling preferences.