Tag Archives: party

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gad-ge-me-ation


don, mom and Jose

Sunday was overbooked as predicted. We were up and out early to get to my dad’s to de-jungle his garden and then raced back to the house to scrub down in hopes that we don’t get poison ivy.

We had just enough time to decontaminate and get dressed to make it, (albeit unfashionably late), to Woofer’s graduation party.

The party had been going for about 4 hours by the time we got there and most everyone including Don and his mom were pretty tanked.

Kiwi was running about being super-host while we mingled with the guests, many of whom are JJ’s crew that we haven’t seen in a long time since becoming anti-social suburban shut-ins.

We hung out for a few hours, stuffed ourselves with bacon wrapped cocktail weenies and watched Don, his mother and a few other guests polish off a bottle of tequila.

Got home and crashed only to get up a little later to indulge a little in the new video crack: “Ratchet and Clank” (Thank you chrisglass for lending it to us.). This is the most use our PS2 has ever gotten.

(insert blog denial here)

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slah-plize!

birthday girl

In his eight years there, Chad meets a lot of interesting folks through his job. Unfortunately, because of the the typical turnaround in the restaurant industry, many of them move on, but he does keep in touch with some.

Two of them are particularly nutty… Melissa and Catie (WITH a “c”). One of them left to work in an improv theater group and the other? – I’m not sure what. Kevin and I only met them once at a staff party but thoroughly enjoyed their bizarre sense of humor.

So of course we decided to go when Chad brought in the invitation to Melissa’s surprise 30th birthday party.

Chad and Kevin worked diligently the night before creating her gift. (one of the gloomy bears we bought en-mass from KidRobot) placed in a left over clear acrylic pyramid I had received full of Pierre Rochet chocolates over Christmas. (another food fetish item for me).

Due to some in-joke, they cannibalized some old bear magazines and plastered the interior with a fur-porn collage. Meanwhile I mostly played with my Stikfas.

I did make a quick card for them in the typical chrisglassian / Swiss-Anal style which simply read:

Cover: “Congratulations…. You’re 30”
Inside: “That’s Dead in Dog Years.” …Love, the three hairy homosexuals in your life.

We didn’t know anyone at the party so I found it a bit snoozy. I occupied myself with snapping pics and making return trips to the crock pot full of BBQ meatballs.

In the morning, I’d have some serious heart burn and a few pics to not use in a blog as proof of the evening.

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marty claw

beads and boobs

The week was punctuated by my PowerBook going on the the fritz again. This time quite terminally. I think Apple sold me a lemon… Nonetheless, a short conversation with the Apple-Careâ„¢ folks and I was promised a shipping box at my door on Monday and a replacement if they can’t get to the bottom of the trouble.

We slept in and had a leisurely morning before heading downtown to Soulard for Mardi Gras. Certain we’d be fucked for parking, I wore comfortable shoes. As luck would have it, we stalked a group of spontaneously vomiting college students staggering down one of the main drags and nabbed their parking spot as they left. Woopie! – only three blocks from the festivities – choice.

The key to Mardi Gras, as with any street festival – is to KNOW people who live there. We know two.. A bear couple we met through the local club and one of my sign vendors both have homes right in the thick of it.

We stick to the top of the neighborhood and stay out of the mobs of tens of thousands of people jammed into the lower section for the parade.

The pattern is simple… Go to party #1, socialize, mooch beer, take a stroll around the block, stop at party #2, go pee, mooch a beer, socialize, stroll around the block and stop by the Bear’s booth at Bastille, buy a beer, socialize…. Rinse… And repeat.

There’s something genuinely reassuring about the human condition to see so many folks from so many different walks of life all out wooping it up and getting their freak on.

Granted there’s more boob flashing going on than a Super Bowl Halftime show, but it’s o.k. – it’s nice to be reminded occasionally of what they look like.

I’d blog about all this but I still have a residual headache from the draft beer and need to chug another gallon of water.

 

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forty to five

coat check

Up and out breakfastless Saturday morning to get downtown to drop Chad at work and to help xenohomo decorate the space for the evening’s Saints and Sinners Ball.

As cynically expected, the “army of people” for the task turned out being myself, Kevin and Dr. Drew (much need to non-blog rave about him) and his friend. More folks showed up in the afternoon at least to help out which was something of a relief.

We spent the bulk of our time climbing scaffolds and stringing Christmas tree lights… Gratifyingly tiring.

Heading home we debated going back for the event itself but decided let’s power-nap and see how we feel. Thankfully, post-snooze, we decided to clean up and head back down.

There was a real nice crowd… Mix between philanthropic west-countyites, sheer fringe crazy-drag queens, yuppie homos and folks from the “St. Louis Art Crowd”.

It was nice to get out to a social event like that and rub elbows with the city’s arty-to-do and the other flavors of homos out there besides the lumberjack/biker sub-set we tend to cling to.

We didn’t wind up leaving till 1:30am. While waiting for our coats I kicked myself in the ass a few times for forgetting my camera. I was interrupted by a mountain of coats resembling Chad that handed me my check ticket. A muffled voice yelled: “Here… there’s your damn blog content…. here take your coat.”

I of course took the ticket… my coat and exclaimed “I DON’T BLOG”