Last Friday night, Tricky Tray season began. I feel like they are native to New Jersey, so let me give you a quick rundown of the glorious disaster that is a tricky tray, just in case you've never been or you're feeling like it's something porny. A tricky tray is a fundraiser, usually by a school, in which you buy sheets of tickets for baskets of prizes. There's usually lower level prizes, and higher level prizes. Lower level prizes consist of such things as some children's toys, or candles, or a holiday theme basket that will just go in your attic until that holiday rolls around again. The higher level prizes are things like Coach bags, Amazon Kindles, huge baskets of miscellaneous house stuff, and the Jack Lalaine Juicer that my Mr. Wonderful has had his eye on for some time now. You buy tickets, and put them in the little buckets next to the prizes that you want to win. There's also a table of super huge prizes, like an iPad 2, a giant TV, a fully stocked bar's worth of liquor, etc. Then you sit there for four hours while they pull the prizes for each basket. This is one of the few things that I like to do, as a grownup, with other grownups. We smuggle copious amounts of alcohol if it's not otherwise allowed, and bribe people around us with wine so that they don't tell on us. We also bring whatever food we can manage to grab before our husbands realize we will be out for hours and hours while they are stuck with the kids. There are snacks and gambling... I'm not really sure who wouldn't enjoy a tricky tray.
Here's how my night went: I attended the tricky tray with The Grammie and Queen Ann, my other grandma. Not sure how my only two friends on a Friday night were both my grandmas, but hey. The Grammie has never been, so I felt like I could introduce her to the wonder and awe that is the tricky tray. I forgot, however, that The Grammie can't sit still for more than 10 minutes. As soon as we sat down to start calling numbers, she got this pouty look on her face and it seemed like she might run from the school cafeteria screaming. I love her, but she just can't hack it.
Then there's the psychology of the tricky tray. When you put your ticket in the basket, if it's something you really really want, you assume that obviously, you will win it. Guess what. So do the 500 other people who put some tickets in the basket. Then you have your hard core tricky trayer. These people dress up, with headbands that have things bouncing off of them, hand clappers and whistles and fireworks and any other obnoxious item to indicate that they've won a basket. And since they spend their life savings at these events, they win all the prizes. As the night wore on, it became clear that we were a bunch of losers; we couldn't even win a door prize. Everyone was cranky; it's not fun at all when you don't win... Queen Ann told me that she will be busy when I invite her next year; I told her not to hold her breath for an invitation. (Love you!!)
The next tricky tray is next week, and I have decided that if I am going to survive an entire year of these nervewracking events, the only way I will make it out alive is if I convey an "I don't give a shit" attitude. If the baskets don't know I care, then I will win them. I will act completely non-chalant as I take prize after prize, and when I get my truckload of stuff home, then and only then will I jump for joy- right before I demand that Mr. Wonderful brings most of it to the attic. I think since last year was also a huge losing year for me as well, I believe that since I have been pregnant forever, that directly correlates to my luck. (More importantly, my lack of alcohol consumption directly correlates to my luck) If this doesn't work, I will be investing in many many sparkly, poufy headbands and clappers. Those bitches win everything.
Does it need to go this far? Because I'm a grown ass woman.