On Saturday we went to a cookout, with people I barely know. It had something to do with the older Secret’s swim team, but not the full team, just a sliver of it. Who the hell knows? When it starts to get confusing like that, I commence to daydreaming about corndogs.
But I was dreading the shindig all day. I’m not really a chitchat kinda guy, and was afraid I’d be the only unfamiliar face, and therefore the center of too much attention. Not really a fan…
And, as is so often the case, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had it pictured. Everyone was nice, there was beer, and the food was good. Why do I always imagine a complete disaster? It’s always horrible in my head, with me saying something stupid that causes tears and/or fist fights, etc. Oh well.
A few random notes from the evening:
I ate something called a sausage burger. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I hadn’t. It looked like a hamburger patty, but was, in fact, some sort of sausage. Very tasty, but greasy.
The two slices of melted cheese on top probably conspired with the patty to shave twelve hours off the back-end of my life, but what do I care? I mean, seriously. At an awkward cookout in some stranger’s backyard, you’ve gotta live for today, maaan.
It was a BYOB event, and we contributed 12 Saranac Pale Ales to the community chest. One or two guys had them, but not many. Most opted for the Coors Light, and the Miller Lite, and other beers made for people who don’t really like beer.
After it was over Toney whispered, “Should we take our Saranacs home with us, or would that be too Costanza?” You can probably guess how I handled that situation. Two bottles clanked together in my Wal-Mart bag as we were saying our goodbyes…
Is it wrong to take your rejected beers home with you?
A little five year old girl, who I’d never met in my life, kept poking my gut, like I’m the Pillsbury Doughboy. Every time she walked past, she pushed her right pointer finger into my stomach.
Toney thought this was a riot, which only exacerbated the situation. I saw some guy snickering behind a brownie the size of a deck of cards.
A woman kept starting all her statements with “Not for nothing, but…” The more margaritas she polished off, the more she said it.
And what the hell does it mean, anyway? Not for nothing? I don’t understand what those three words mean, when strung together. Can someone help me out, please?
I now have roughly five thousand mosquito bites on my arms and legs. And there’s one on a part of my body I could only see if I were to stand naked on a mirror. Which rarely happens…
There was a big Marmaduke-style dog there, foraging for food and wandering around freely. A couple of girls, probably twelve years old, started playing with it in the back yard, and things got out of control.
The hound was getting all worked-up, and kept trying to hump the girls. The owner knocked the thing away every time, but was trying to keep it quiet, and unnoticed by the oblivious adults.
But I kept watching, and was starting to get mildly concerned. I mean, that thing was determined. And the last couple of times the dog was shoved away, it walked around hump-backed for a few minutes, like an upside-down U.
Nothing good was going to come from this…
And finally, one of the girls was standing in the middle of Adult Circle, asking her mother something — when the Perverted Marmaduke came charging out of nowhere. He jumped up on the girl, wrapped his front legs around her, and started going to town like it was prom night. Right there, in front of everyone.
The dog was roughly the same height as the horrified sixth grader, and I heard someone scream, “JESUS CHRIST!” Lawn chairs turned over, people came running from every direction, and someone knocked the hound ass-over-tits.
It slunk away all hump-backed and aroused, and another person said, “Oh dear God in heaven…”
And I know it’s probably not the most mature reaction in the world, but I couldn’t stop laughing for ten solid minutes. I had to take a walk around the property, so I could laugh with my back to the crowd.
I think it was the “JESUS CHRIST!” that sent me over the edge, for some reason.