She’s Kassidy and she’s there to coordinate things, book dinners, make spreadsheets, etc.
But when it’s her birthday and one of us has to coordinate her birthday dinner, everything goes to hell.
It goes to actual hell.
It’s a shit show.
Let’s review the WEEKS leading up to planning one birthday dinner for the event planner, Kassidy Lora Ketron.
Let’s order shirts that says #bringKKhome
This is mainly an inside joke, a joke for the insiders, but we thought buying T-shirts that say, “#bringKKhome” would be the best thing since air conditioning. So we assigned Augusta Ruby Neal to design and order the T-shirts and then that was the last we talked about it. Day of birthday dinner: No T-shirts.
Let’s buy her a gift
Gifts are fun and birthdays are fun, so let’s buy her a birthday gift. What does Kassidy like? She likes makeup, right? What kind of makeup? I shouldn’t be trusted in Sephora alone. She needs a new bag. Does she like bucket bags? I can’t remember. Why have I not listened to anything she’s said ever. Long story, short: I went to Target, Nordstroms, Urban Outfitters, Forever 21, Nordstroms again, Big Lots, Ross, and all I got her were these sunglasses.
Other things I considered buying her:
|i loved it sorry|
|how ugly is this purse i love it|
|i wish nate berkus was straight because he’s my dream man|
|i was gonna buy this for myself but didn’t, but should i?|
|everyone needs a panda head/mask thing|
Text the wrong group text
There are 47 group texts happening in my iPhone at any given moment and one was sans Kassidy because we had to plan her birthday. A good rule of thumb is to shop while texting, so then you accidentally text the group WITH KASSIDY IN IT talking about her birthday. Act like nothing happened when she questions you.
Let’s bring dessert to the restaurant
We’ll put Sarah in charge of that because she’s the most domestic, but what dessert does Kassidy even like? I heard her say the other day she doesn’t like brownies, so she really is a Nazi and Hitler deserves her. I don’t think she likes cake, either. She talks about ice cream a lot, but like, who brings ice cream to a restaurant. So we got her ice cream cake and turns out she crapped her pants because she was so excited.
But then watch her have the best night of her life
This is not at all true, but I wanted this blog to end like a Mastercard commercial. Bye.