3 posts tagged “bbq”

The Fourth of July was always one of my favorite holidays in the US. Not that I'm terribly patriotic or anything, just...there are fireworks and BBQs and its an excuse to drink = HELLO PERFECT HOLIDAY.

Now, it of course means something else to me. It makes me miss home.

While I'll be having fun tonight celebrating Iain's birthday (it's tomorrow!) down by the Thames...there's a part of my heart that will be back home in my parents back yard, drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade and with a over excitable chihuahua at my feet. (Praying for crumbs.)

If I could fly back home today, even just for a couple hours and to see my parents and my sister, I would in a heart beat.

On the Fourth we'd always go to the same spot to watch fire works. My mom and my sister and I would lay on our backs and wait expectantly for the Sperm Fire Works.

If you don't know which ones I'm talking about, the you don't know what you're missing out.

They're the bright, white ones that look like tad-poles when they're first launched, but then go off in crazy directions...as if searching for a big, unfertilized egg in the sky.

It dawned on me a couple of years ago that they totally looked like gigantic sperm. I started laughing hysterically - only to notice that my sister was cackling to herself as well. Then my mom started laughing,

"OH MY GOD THEY LOOK LIKE SPERM!!!!"

Hopefully the Fourth of July Sperm Fireworks won't be nearly as fun without me this year...(If I can't have a fully complete Fourth of July THEN NOBODY SHOULD.)

Happy Independence Day, my fellow Americans.

May this recession end soon, may the gas prices go down, and may all of your BBQ's be fully cooked so you don't end up with the shits all weekend.

This song reminds me of home...

So, it's taken me like 8 days to recap the Great BBQ. But, alas, dear readers. It is here. Grab some popcorn, or yourself, and here we go....

Well. After my not-so-fun day of playing Domestic Wifey, I managed to destroy any traces of cat, throw away mass amounts of useless shit, and even ironed.

It was my day of Stepford, let me tell you. And by the end of it, I was ready to par-tay*.

I'm not going to give you a boring "and then" novella of the night. Just think of this as a literary montage of all the BBQ highlights o' drunken  fun...So here we go.

I stood around with my friend (the hostess') friends, drinking sangria, and talking crap about the group of people standing in a private huddle on the opposite side of the lawn. They all know the Host from University, so therefore reverted back to their 20 year old selves, and could only shout things like "DUDE!" and "OI! MATE!" instead of mingling and making polite conversation.

Finally one of these Dudes comes over to get a beer, and I'm, shockingly, right next to the cooler. I stick my hand infront of his face like "hey, notice me" in a polite way and he shakes it, and introduces himself to the rest of the girls around me. He then shouts over to his other Dudes,

"Oi! Ask James 'bout the 'Circle of Trust!'"

Me: "Like Meet the Fockers? Ben Stiller?"

Dude: "Nah, like bunch o' mates stand 'round a circle and wank!"

Me: "Is there a biscuit involved in this, or are you just hanging out with your friends....beating off?"

Dude: "Nah, no biscuit. Just 'avin a wank with yer mates. To see if you trust each other enough to go through wif it."

Me:"...And you guys, " I motion to the other Dudes, "all have participated in this 'Circle of Wank'?"

(Possibly Gay) Dude: "For fuck sake! No!" He takes a swig of his beer, "Just half of us! Christ. You can't have a 'Circle of Trust' that big!"

Me: "Okay. Great. Nice to meet you."

Another one of these Dudes was a lawyer (aka Barrister, aka Solicitor) who was dressed in a plaid shirt, and a pair of brown corduroy pants, and then brown wing tips to match. Very Lawyer-esque. Except for his bright, fuchsia socks. You'd think, that if you wore such an accessory, you'd have a sense of humor to match...

Cut to me, 4 hours later, dancing in the living room yelling,

"Hey! HEY!!! Don't your SOCKS just make you wanna DANCE!?!!?" He gave me a stone cold face and said, "No. Not really." and then left. It was very Colin-Firth-as-Mark-Darcy like.

Later, I spotted a couple that I hadn't met yet. The wife was sitting in a law chair, a cup of coke in one hand,

and an entire bottle of Smirnoff Vodka in the other. I was pleased...Very pleased....

Me: "Hi I'm Cate...Nice Vodka!"

 

Vodka Wife: "OH CATE! It's soooo nice to meet you!! This is my other -not my better- half!"

She points to this very tall Engish man who extended his hand to me...and then proceeded to do some 1994 style 'we're homies' secret handshake. My hand just kind of stayed limp, and paralyzed. What do you do with that?

Vodka Wife: "Oh, he does that! He thinks he's a HOMEBOY! Anyway! I know, I'm sitting here with this entire thing of Vodka. But the thing is, is that I never drink! Maybe once or twice a year as a treat to my hubby. He usually drinks, and I usually drive, but NO!  NOT TONIGHT SISTER!So I'm a BARRISTER!"

And then for the next 10 minutes I was fucking  trapped. She rambled on, and on in this gravely, british voice, about how she's a lawyer, and did I know that British Female Lawyers wear the most lingerie out of all the other professions!???

A while later, I'm standing with the Hostess, and HomeBoy, and this very awkward, large man that he was talking to, try to engage us in conversation. Somehow, HomeBoy and Hostess vanish and I'm left talking to this very, creepy guy.

"So.......what's your name?"

And he goes on and on asking me all these questions about myself, and what I'm doing in the UK, and he keeps TOUCHING MY ARM as he talks at me. I'm thoroughly creeped out, and when the Boy shows up, I quicky run away.

Later, talk starts rising about the Big Awkward Man. Who is? Who's friend is he? What's his deal?

We're all trying to figure this out in the Kitchen, and he suddenly comes down the stairs from the bathroom. I scurry out of his way, and he was PLENTY of wide, open space to get by me.

HOWEVER! He still felt the need to put both hands on my hips as he walked by. I FLIP out,

'There's NO NEED FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!!'

Then, within the next 10 minutes...He's gone. He was with 2 other people, and they just suddenly slipped out...

And NO ONE knew who they were! They were fucking Party Crashers that crashed a medium sized, BBQ.

It wasn't even like a full fledged party...just a civilized BBQ.

They didn't steal anything, just drank the booze, and used the bathroom.

Very creepy, very weird.

 OH! Let's see.  Then there was this other, Homer like guy that liked to make inappropriate comments to me, and about me.

One guy got potato salad on his back, so I said,

"Hey, you have some, uh, white stuff on your back!" Ya know, hardy har.

Perv: "So. Do you know a lot about white stuff?" then he made lots of other comments about 'white stuff' and I'll just you imagine what those comments were like.

Best part though, was when the Boy and I decided to go home, and we're saying goodbye to people...and then he asks the boy,

"So. You guys goin' home together?'

Boy: "Um, well yes."

Perv: "Are you gonna have sex with her?"

Boy: "Most likely..."

Perv: "Fuck! Good for you! She has great tits, bro, great tits"

Nevermind that we're CLEARLY a couple. Bless the Boy, he was just like, "Wow, you're really that dumb."

This guy just assumed I was some tart, going home with this guy I just met.

SHANANIGANS, I tell you, SHANANIGANS!

 Ya know...Wedding Crashers is a bunch of bullshit. These guys were not fun. They didn't dance, and they sure as hell didn't sing.

What disappointing crashers...

 

*(Okay, I was actually exhausted, but ignored it. Because if I let myself get tired from housework, and not party hardy...well, let's just say the Early Bird Special would be a knockin, ya know?)

 

So, last night in bed, it was all cold on the outside, and all warm and snuggly on the inside.

 

It was bliss I tell you. Bliss, bliss, bliss.

 

The boy was asleep, so I could invade his pillow space without him knowing, and I rolled myself into a warm, floppy, taquito of sleep.

 

Early  morning, I could hear the Orange cat yelling at me from the hallway. The “I’m yelling because I’m about to get a running leap and dig my claws into your slumbering flesh” kind of yell.

 

(Keep in mind, our Orange cat does not meow. He yells.)

 

  But this morning, he just gently jumped up, walked along our backs and legs, and nestled into a warm fold of the duvet…And Slept!

 

 It was A-may-zing.

No insistent licking. No nudging. No yelling. Just sleep.

 

So there we were. Just a snuggly, hibernating, famdamly.

 

But then the real morning started.

 

The boy had to get up for work...

 

I laid in bed, willing myself join the rest of the world....

 

And the cats yelled for their morning feast.

 

“I do not like this supposed ‘meal’ of Beef and Rice! I desire the SALMON and Rice, you fool!”

 

Somwhere between the alarm, and the goodbye MUAH! It dawned on us that we had a(nother) BBQ to go to tonight.

 

And that  tomorrow morning our landlord would be stopping by to help us out with some stuff. Which, wouldn’t really be a problem, but he doesn’t know about our precious (loud) felines…so.

 

But the problem with the BBQ lies as such....

 

Monday one of the Boy’s mates had us over for dinner. And if all you fellow MySpacers are familiar with my other blog, then you know that I had the full enjoyment of a bottomless glass of wine,and a screwdriver that was approximately the size of my head.

 

This then made for a hangover...

A TUESDAY hangover.

 

Then, our usual routine of “Shit Faced Thursday” became “I’m-Beginning-To-Think-I-Have-A-Problem Wednesday” as a bunch of the Boy’s old coworkers were in town.

 

Due to my ailments of the day prior, I played the whole,

 

“Oh god. I’m only going to have one. Really, just one drink.”

 

 And, well, I don’t even want to go into the full details of how many Screwdrivers that night ensued....

So, I was left with a half- hangover the following morning. (That’s 1.5 hangovers this week, incase you’re keeping a running tally).

 

So now we come to this Glorious Friday Night BBQ which has been planned for a plethora of weeks.

 

It’s not the act of going which is problem…it’s the fact that there will be a variety of wine, and beer, and -gasp- vodka! And pretty much everything else that makes my hopeful eyes light up with glee…

 

Burgers! Chicken! Sausages! Ketchup!!!!!

O! The sweet Anticipation!

 

I’m almost starting to feel like I have this super hot date tonight, that I JUST KNOW will end up in all sorts of  naughty – bad – fun.

 

Which leads me to this realization that the problem with tonight isn’t the actual BBQ, but my immanent lack of self control….Which then leads me to go…

 

Eeeh, whatever.

 

Now, for the other issue of Ye Old Landlord coming into our lair of loud felines..Okay, our house isn’t a mess. It’s not a pig-pen….It’s just, untidy.

 

 

I am NOT a domestic goddess. I only just learned how to cook chicken

(which I know think the boy took that photo of me not just for entertainment purposes, but as proof that I’ve used the stove)

 I’ll do the wash, but not hang it out to dry. I don’t dust.

 

I don’t screw the caps back onto things the right way.

 

And you’ll be able to tell what I wore all week because it’s probably laying on the bathroom floor.

 

(“But she has a great personality!”)

 

And all this means, that today will have to be filled with less writing, blogging, and eating of cheese...And more cleaning, tidying, and

 

sweeping.  I suppose my reward for this is knowing that I, in 8 hours, will be in my personal state of euphoric peace:

 

Full, drunk, and happy.