Either of those two made-up words will work for last night. The framework of the night was pretty normal for a Friday. I got off work and had a couple beer, went home and had a couple beer, went to the Queens and had a couple beer, then came back home and went to bed. Pretty mild if you ask me.
The intricacies of the night are where we float into lewdness and debauchery, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I called my old friend Bugsy up and arranged for a visit, earlier in the week. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and it was about time. You can’t have one of your groomsmen showing up at the rehearsal and you not recognize each other. I then called Joey, but he turns into a pumpkin at ten o’clock when he has to work the next day, so he was out, and Yvette is 4500 kms away, so I didn’t even bother to call her. I did call another good friend, Vanilla Thunder, and he was miraculously available, so we made the required plans and got the ball rolling. Mrs. Birdman was also making plans on her end, seeing as it was the band we were hoping to hire for our wedding that was playing, and she needed to make sure there were some connoisseurs there as well. You have to understand that we wouldn’t just go out drinking for no reason, but band choice is a very important part of wedding planning, so it was a necessary evil, and obviously we needed others there to make sure we chose properly.
Bugsy showed up a little after dark, and the fun began. We told stories, consumed at least four beer, and started to get our glow on. That’s when Dora and Swiper showed up dressed as convicts, and I could tell that things were going to get sketchy. We drank the rest of the beer, and started to make our way down to the finest drinking establishment in town. Yep, you guessed it, The Queens Hotel and Shillelagh Lounge. Vanilla Thunder (VT) showed up shortly after, followed by Dawanda and Wheels. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Birdman and I got kissed by all the same people, and luckily some of them were wearing a mask when it got to my turn. I’m told that it’s totally not gay for a dude to start necking with you, if there is a thin membrane of latex between the lips. I don’t know if that applies to oral if there’s a condom involved, but when I get there, I’ll let you know. Vanilla Thunder told me that it is completely natural to get an erection when kissing another man with a mask on, so it kind of put me at ease and the stabbing in my belly didn’t bother me as much. Oh yeah, and the band played some tunes.
I was told that Mama needed some sugar, so Mrs. Birdman and I left the den of lechery before 1 AM, and headed for the cocoon. We walked home, quietly holding hands and being proud of ourselves for booking one of the hottest indie bands in the area for our special day. We got home and crawled up the stairs, and we cocooned for a while, hoping that no one would come back before we thoroughly showed our appreciation to each other. It turned out that we really didn’t need an hour, so we got to have a nap before VT and Dawanda showed up. VT was sporting a lovely $125 citation for having an open container of alcohol in public, and he thought that he had better go tell the missus about his ordeal. I heard a bit of screaming from the cocoon, but it subsided quickly, and I talked to Dawanda while VT was most certainly regaling Mrs. B with the injustice served upon him. Come on, aren’t we getting a bit out of hand when we start handing out tickets to people who are responsibly walking home from the bar with a beer in their hand? They aren’t driving home drunk, or starting fights. Sure, maybe they sing old sea shanties a bit too loud, and maybe they are a bit boisterous as they yell, “I fucking love you like a brother” in your ear, but really, they don’t need a $125 ticket for that. I don’t think getting a manslaughter charge costs that much.
I crawled back into the warm cocoon with my true love, while VT and Dawanda finished their night of drinking downstairs. I had just fallen back asleep when I heard some shouting, and my fiance’s name being taken in vain. We ignored this, and fell back into our slumber. When we got up this morning, there were clothes strewn about, and a pile of muddy pants and such by the back door. It seems that VT couldn’t wait to use the washroom, so he trekked out the back door into the silty swamp that is our backyard. I guess he’s fatter than he looks, because he sunk in up to his knees, and luckily wasn’t wearing his fancy shoes, so they weren’t lost or even dirty. We won’t try to figure out why someone would go out for a piss in sub-zero weather with no shoes on, because we aren’t judgy like that.
What happened to Dora and Swiper, or Bugsy and Wheels? Well, Dora and Swiper were smart and took a cab home just after we left. Swiper sometimes doesn’t like to leave a party when he’s been drinking, because alcohol affects him differently than most of us. Where we all are completely normal, and clear of thought when we drink, Swiper sometimes has his judgement clouded by the booze. He doesn’t realize that it feels bad to go to work with a hangover, and Dora had to help him by dragging his ass to the cab, and then dragging his ass to bed. As for Wheels, he didn’t come back after the bar, so we assume he was picked up by A dude in a Zorro costume. He has always had a thing for Spaniards. Bugsy didn’t come back either, and the last report was that he left with a cougar. He’s 42 I think, so a cougar to him would have to be around 60 or so. You go boy. We did see him at the house around 7:30 with a gang of rabble-rousers to pick up his truck and go to work. It was sure good to see him, and to know that he’s still the same guy that I hung around twenty years ago. He’d still do anything for you, no matter when or where, and I really mean that. He is fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. You could bang on his door at 3 AM and tell him you rolled your car and needed to get it out of someone’s field before daybreak, and he’d take off and show up with a stolen tow truck, if that’s what it would take. Luckily, that’s never happened ;), but if it did, I know who to call.
As for VT, he left here in my pyjama pants, a sweater vest and a shiny pair of oxfords, with a bag of muddy clothes in his hand, and a cloud in his eye. I hope Dawanda is getting a bit of a nap today, and is ready for round two, because we gonna get down tonight. I’m hoping that there are more shenanigans this evening, because I have no idea what to write about tomorrow, just like I had no idea last night. All in all, I had a great time with some of my favourite people, and I really don’t think it gets better than that. I have the best friends, and there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t consider myself lucky to know each and every one of them. I think it’s also cool, that as you get older, you are way pickier than when you were young. You now choose your friends on their merit as people, and not on how much beer they can drink, although my friends can drink more beer than your friends.
I’m going to sign off now,
P.S. My editor has gone to work, so let me know if there are any punctuation or grammatical errors, and for the love of Pete, like our fucking facebook page by clicking the funny coloured letters to the left.