If I had remembered that I was asked. Oh, and I never told the DH that he was getting sucked into this, either. Whoops.
So last week rolls around and there's a flurry of facebook updates about the Enforcers getting their mixes done, how fucking brilliant the mixes are, and that they didn't pander too much to my musical tastes. The DH sees these updates and is baffled by his involvement. As usual.
The actual delivery of the cd's to me is a story in and of itself. Last Thursday I get an email from Gwen Sweetfanni asking if I'll be at the track that night to pick up the cd's, and if not, could she drop them by my house after practice? I reply back telling her that I won't be at practice and of course she could deliver them to my house and drop them through the mail slot. Or I could pick them up this Sunday, since I'll be at the track. She says she'll leave them at the track.
A semi-important note: because I'm on the computer ALL DAY for work, I rarely, if ever, turn on the computer when I get home from work. And so I missed Gwen's email from later in the evening saying that she's going to stop by the house and drop off the cd's when she's done with practice after all because she's giving a ride home to fellow Westside resident and LADD Head of Events Bong Jovi.
This is where the hilarity comes in.
Another semi-important note: the DH is usually one who doesn't have much in facial reactions. Or reactions in general. Whatever is going on in his mind keeps him occupied to the point where outside stimuli is only able to earn a momentary pause in his thinking before he goes right back to whatever he was saying before said outside stimuli pierced his thought patterns. Long story short, he's a little deadpan in his reactions. This will help with visualizing the following.
In the morning I find this on my computer keyboard:
The DH shuffles in and in about four sentences mumbles that the manila envelope was dropped off last night by Gwen. She had tried to shove the manila envelope through the mail slot and he had interrupted her.
I'm delighted with the unexpected-until-I-read-my-email-at-work delivery. I unpack the envelope and see the seventeen discs waiting for me to be all judgey on them:
I think to myself that there are more cd's than I expected. I wonder how Gwen got that envelope through the mail slot?
I take some of the cd's to work and settle in for a long morning of almost getting stuff done when Bong Jovi messages me on gchat(PS: I'm on gchat all day. ALL GODDAM DAY. It's the only thing that keeps me from going spider monkey on my coworkers) about the Summer Mix delivery. Here it is:
me: I'm so bummed I slept through it.
Poor Busta had NO idea what the fuck was going on. HILARIOUS.
JOVI: oh man
dude, it was hilarious
i mean, first, gwen and i running errands together like a crime fighting team is already funny
but we get to your place
me: oh gawd!
JOVI: and she's like, i'm gonna run up and put it in the mail slot
and as she walked away i thought, that envelope is probably to big for the mail slot
and then she disappears in the darkness of your porch
me: I'm laughing out loud already, I'll have you know.
JOVI: and then it's nothing but sounds
the KREEEEEEEEEK of the screen
the opening of the slot
then PAPER RUSTLE PAPER RUSTLE
then the SCREEEE of the mail slot again
PAPER RUSTLE PAPER RUSTLE
me: <---literally giggling like goon reading about this.
JOVI: then silence
i'm in the car with the door opening laughing my ass off
because like, your porch is an echo chamber or something
me: OH MAN.
where did you guys park? Did you pull into our driveway?
JOVI: we parked on the street behind your car
JOVI: and then the porch light comes on
which scares gwen
and immediatly i think
Holy shit, we're at the wrong house
JOVI: she's trying to cram all these random cds into a strangers mail slotthe porch light comes on and i hear her this:
Busta: Who's there?
Gwen: Gwen? Cammie?
Busta: Gwen who?
Gwen (panic): Gwen Sweetfanni??? of the LA Derby Dolls??? Imjusttryingtodropoffthecdsfortheenforcermixtapecontestsorry. sooooo sorry...
JOVI: and then she races back to the car
and i'm like, "Who the fuck answered the door and why did you give them your full official title/"
because we'd been joking about waking you up
saying things like "Don't Poke the Bear-a"
me: OH SHIT.
JOVI: and then we end up waking up Busta
and we sped out of your hood
me: my eyes are tearing up.
Good thing the DH didn't show up to the front door with a gun.
That story makes judging the cd's that much more fun.