Ben Jammin' Skyhammer
Nothing says "I am hungover" like when the waiter comes to take brunch orders and your girlfriends are like: "tea" and "coffee" and then you say "caesar". Awesome. It did take the edge of though. So I have brunch with N and Po and the possibility exists that I was still technically drunk. Po throws out the idea of a barbeque at her boyfriend's place, N says she will ask her new beau if he's into it and suddenly I'm thinking that I ought to go and I should invite B. We plow through our meals (Po and N with a fruit accompaniment, me with hash browns of course) and our waiter repeatedly refers to us as "girls". I would have objected but he was really hot.
We leave. Po is meeting up with her boyfriend, S, and N is meeting up with her boyfriend that we shall heretofore refer to as Ben Jammin' Skyhammer. You know, because it's fun. I call B and leave a message, asking if he would be interested in a barbeque with my friends. The "old" B would not have returned my message because, oh, say he was no longer in the country or some such thing. The "new" B called me back and said that he was into it. I was pretty surprised. Swung by his place and we picked up some steak, asparagus and booze and headed over to S's. Po was already there, as was N with Ben Jammin' Skyhammer. A little while later an interesting fellow, T, dropped by and there was a lot of talk of boats. Lots of boat talk. And of converting Delica engines to run on vegetable oil.
While the boys talked about boats and how to get blood out of fibreglass, and where is the best place to hide bodies, we ladies tried to come up with a fun pen name for Po. N gave us a lecture that had something to do with consonants. I started to have Kwantlen flashbacks. The gist is that the name she end with a hard sound. I thought "Fuck" worked. It has the hard ending, and you would definitely never forget a children's author with that last name. Maybe she can spell it like "Phoque" or something. To ease with the social lubrication S produced 45 bottles of random alcohol and N made herself the most amazing orange juice and gin that I'd ever seen in my life. It kind of went from there. I believe the highlights were: Fireballs; the half of a cow I ate; an animated debate on crop circles; a large plate of pork; a really fucked up beer bottle cap; N treating us to the first 15 seconds of 62 songs; some fun puns to describe men's seeming inability to find and correctly stimulate the clitoris; photos being taken; Skittles; B getting a bit drunk (the shoe is on the other foot!); N putting stickers on her face. Yeah. I don't think I have ever met a happier drunk than N. And a phenomenal didgeridoo player to boot.
I guess I could blog about more embarrassing things, like the amount of food and alcohol that was spilled on the kitchen floor, or how Po encouraged N to crawl on the kitchen floor, or N's amazing ability to toss magnets onto the fridge, or S's real thoughts on iTunes, or Skyhammer's interpretation of the word "awesome", or T's joke about 28 year olds, but I shan't. Although it was fun when I offered T a space behind me on the couch because, as usual, I exude warmness and my body posture is always so inviting. I said, "I don't bite" to which B replied, "oh yes you do". And with that I decided to get a beer. This would be the beer with the world's most disappointing bottle cap. I can't get over it. It can't be true. I will retain this cap and continue to contemplate it. It cannot be "an eye for an eye". Nor can it be "an eye for a bomb in a box eye". And it's likely no "an eye for a hot box", though that was a valiant effort on T's behalf.
As I was heading over to the barbeque tonight I thought that it was such a cool, thirty-something thing to do. I was really looking forward to it, and I had so much fun. The food was fantastic. The company was utterly superb. I had met S before, but not Skyhammer and I was over the moon to see how much he doted on N. I was just so freakin' happy to see that my friends were happy. Yeah, maybe this is the new and sappy me, but I felt so privileged to be able to spend my Saturday night with such a fantastic group of people. I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard or met such interesting people. I can't envision a better night (okay, maybe if I hadn't had to drive home I could've had one of N's magical gin and OJ's but, as I explained twice to S: I live in a far away land and no, I wasn't crashing with B).
B and I left and, as we were walking back to his place he said a couple of things to me. He said that my friends really care about me, and that they're great. I agreed with him and said I was lucky to have them. He also said I was awesome. I agreed with that too, and said that, the more pot he smoked the more awesome I would get.
I think I will bypass the 8am run tomorrow. I shall go later in the day. Maybe it will be sunnier by then. B called to make sure I had made it home alright. Thoughtful. I want to call my friends in the morning to see how they are doing and get their input on B but they are likely feeling as pleasant as I was this morning and I'm sure they'll have company.
Sigh. I'm a good girl.
We leave. Po is meeting up with her boyfriend, S, and N is meeting up with her boyfriend that we shall heretofore refer to as Ben Jammin' Skyhammer. You know, because it's fun. I call B and leave a message, asking if he would be interested in a barbeque with my friends. The "old" B would not have returned my message because, oh, say he was no longer in the country or some such thing. The "new" B called me back and said that he was into it. I was pretty surprised. Swung by his place and we picked up some steak, asparagus and booze and headed over to S's. Po was already there, as was N with Ben Jammin' Skyhammer. A little while later an interesting fellow, T, dropped by and there was a lot of talk of boats. Lots of boat talk. And of converting Delica engines to run on vegetable oil.
While the boys talked about boats and how to get blood out of fibreglass, and where is the best place to hide bodies, we ladies tried to come up with a fun pen name for Po. N gave us a lecture that had something to do with consonants. I started to have Kwantlen flashbacks. The gist is that the name she end with a hard sound. I thought "Fuck" worked. It has the hard ending, and you would definitely never forget a children's author with that last name. Maybe she can spell it like "Phoque" or something. To ease with the social lubrication S produced 45 bottles of random alcohol and N made herself the most amazing orange juice and gin that I'd ever seen in my life. It kind of went from there. I believe the highlights were: Fireballs; the half of a cow I ate; an animated debate on crop circles; a large plate of pork; a really fucked up beer bottle cap; N treating us to the first 15 seconds of 62 songs; some fun puns to describe men's seeming inability to find and correctly stimulate the clitoris; photos being taken; Skittles; B getting a bit drunk (the shoe is on the other foot!); N putting stickers on her face. Yeah. I don't think I have ever met a happier drunk than N. And a phenomenal didgeridoo player to boot.
I guess I could blog about more embarrassing things, like the amount of food and alcohol that was spilled on the kitchen floor, or how Po encouraged N to crawl on the kitchen floor, or N's amazing ability to toss magnets onto the fridge, or S's real thoughts on iTunes, or Skyhammer's interpretation of the word "awesome", or T's joke about 28 year olds, but I shan't. Although it was fun when I offered T a space behind me on the couch because, as usual, I exude warmness and my body posture is always so inviting. I said, "I don't bite" to which B replied, "oh yes you do". And with that I decided to get a beer. This would be the beer with the world's most disappointing bottle cap. I can't get over it. It can't be true. I will retain this cap and continue to contemplate it. It cannot be "an eye for an eye". Nor can it be "an eye for a bomb in a box eye". And it's likely no "an eye for a hot box", though that was a valiant effort on T's behalf.
As I was heading over to the barbeque tonight I thought that it was such a cool, thirty-something thing to do. I was really looking forward to it, and I had so much fun. The food was fantastic. The company was utterly superb. I had met S before, but not Skyhammer and I was over the moon to see how much he doted on N. I was just so freakin' happy to see that my friends were happy. Yeah, maybe this is the new and sappy me, but I felt so privileged to be able to spend my Saturday night with such a fantastic group of people. I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard or met such interesting people. I can't envision a better night (okay, maybe if I hadn't had to drive home I could've had one of N's magical gin and OJ's but, as I explained twice to S: I live in a far away land and no, I wasn't crashing with B).
B and I left and, as we were walking back to his place he said a couple of things to me. He said that my friends really care about me, and that they're great. I agreed with him and said I was lucky to have them. He also said I was awesome. I agreed with that too, and said that, the more pot he smoked the more awesome I would get.
I think I will bypass the 8am run tomorrow. I shall go later in the day. Maybe it will be sunnier by then. B called to make sure I had made it home alright. Thoughtful. I want to call my friends in the morning to see how they are doing and get their input on B but they are likely feeling as pleasant as I was this morning and I'm sure they'll have company.
Sigh. I'm a good girl.
posted by Duder at 11:25 PM
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