The Institute of Drinking Studies would like to announce the latest social breakthrough: the adult baby shower. This novel concept progresses far beyond the "Jack and Jill" shower you may have heard of, which is just a ploy to get guys to help in the planning of such estrogen-intensive activity. The main tactics employed by women in this endeavor are browbeating and exploiting the well-known guy weakness that allows guys to do anything when "all the other guys are going to be there." This same weakness, of course, is what gave us both world wars, the USFL and Budweiser commercials.
But with the new, improved Institute Baby Shower, no longer are lethal doses of guilt required to coerce a guy into participating. In fact, the members of the Institute Baby Shower Working Group -- my wife, the saintly wife of the Redneck Liaison and the Oriental Representative -- are rapidly turning this activity into one of the hot social tickets of the holiday season. The key to our success: an unchristened bar in the basement of the Redneck Liaison's house, which his saintly wife has offered up as the focal point of a party that will attract an assortment of guys who normally wouldn't be caught dead within a mile of a shower for fear that they might spontaneously menstruate.
I got to experience an impromptu meeting of the IBSWG the other night when I met the Oriental Representative for drinks at Piatti Locali (190 Saint Paul Street). Since Denver had experienced its first major snowfall of the past 150 years -- or so it seemed after watching some of the driving displays throughout the day -- I wanted to stick relatively close to my house. My hope was to walk home (and be drunk enough to think seriously about making naked snow angels), but I recognized that even that might not be safe: There were enough cars running off the road to make a pedestrian have chest pain.
At Piatti, a nice little Italian place in Cherry Creek, we pretty much had the undivided attention of the staff; the only other patrons were people waiting for tow trucks to haul their shattered cars to the body shop. "It's a little quiet for you here," the Oriental noted as we walked into the bar. I am the first to admit that I have a volume "problem"; however, I also knew that after a couple of giant glasses of wine, she'd be an equal contributor to the employees' permanent hearing damage.
After an impressive pizza, several bottles of wine and lots of loud conversation, we dialed the Redneck's saintly wife to share an alcohol-inspired stroke of brilliance: We needed to add truly adult themes to the shower. One of our more interesting ideas was shopping sprees at Victoria's Secret and Fascinations. While the presents resulting from such sprees would certainly be welcomed by the expectant father, the mental image of the girls looking over the merchandise would keep any guy's attention. I also suggested that the guys stop by a local strip club to investigate why the women-only parties were originally named "showers," but decided I needed to convene the Institute Innuendo Working Group to refine that idea.
Piatti Locali is to be commended -- not just for its food, but also for its role in advancing guy-woman relationships. Our evening there did more to get women to stop bitching about guys not wanting to participate in sappy activities than any advice article in Cosmopolitan ever could.
Now, a reminder: The official Institute pre-party for the Who concert at the Pepsi Center will be held at Brooklyn's on Tuesday, November 14. Those of us who survive the Institute Baby Shower will gather there around 1700.
-- Patrick Osborn
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