lundi 6 juin 2005

The party before the party.

Saturday evening, after a long and arduous day of sunning in the backyard, my friends and I decided to break in the grill for the low brow BBQ the next day.

The grill nazi said we weren't allowed to start grilling until all the coals were white. I hate waiting when I'm hungry.

Earlier in the day, we'd walked down to Whole Foods to buy some foodstuffs for the grill. In typical yuppie frou frou style (as most of the prepared foods at Whole Foods are), we got a chicken chorizo sausage, some other kind of sausage, a beef, bacon, and blue cheese hamburger patty, a random kabob, and some corn (drizzled with some chili-lime butter). The low brow wasn't starting until the next day, you see.

This is our platter of meat, all chopped-up in bite size pieces so that we wouldn't have to pause in the shoveling of food down throat. Plus, when you chop up food, the calories disappear into thin air. Bet you didn't know that.

I liked the kabob the best.

Mmm, meat.

Okay, we were a little lowbrow as we did this all while lounging in lawn chairs in the driveway. But it was such a nice evening!

Word of warning:
Vodka + a splash of pomegranate juice + orange/mango/pineapple juice = DRUNK BEFORE YOU KNOW IT.

It's like, two drinks, everyone's fine. But hit THREE, and kabam! Mad drunkenness!

Really, we didn't mean for it to happen, as we were going to take it easy because we had a big day of drinking ahead of us. But, it just did.

So we decided to race our tractors because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

That is not a dirty euphemism. We really did have tractors. Well, modified tractors, anyway, which Tweedle and I had purchased the day before in the $1 bin at Target, the happiest store in the universe.

See, look at our tractors! So freaking cute. You can guess which tractor I was.

And here we are on the right, revving up our tractors in preparation for racing them (or tossing them, whichever you prefer) down the driveway.

I don't know what happened here on the left.

Appears like there was some sort of altercation. Me, I was nursing the nail I broke from accidentally scraping it down the pavement as it got damaged amidst the tractor racing hoopla.

We're all really damn competitive, you know.

Then one of my friends and I decided to go race the tractors in the playground across the street, such as sliding them down the slides.

After this, we pretty much passed out as holy majolie, we were druuuunk. Saddest part was, it was only about 10:30. One girl fell asleep in the papasan in the driveway ("I'm a sleepy monkey," she proclaimed, and promptly passed out and we couldn't wake her up, but had to carry her inside the house), and I sighed a little bit until Tweedle's roommate drove me home because I like sleeping in my own bed dammit. I'm not sure how the last of the girls got home, but as she met us for the requisite hungover greasy spoon breakfast the next morning, she obviously got home safely.

Accidentally getting drunk. The best kind of drunk to get.