I've Been To A Marvelous Party
Though Mr. Coward might or might not have a difference of opinion as to what could possibly constitute said marvelous event, Tim and I had an utter blast at the first Big Lug BBQ, held this past Saturday afternoon in wilds of Brooklyn on the cusp of Gowanus and Park Slop, atop the almost autumnal roof deck of Cattyshack, a local hangout for BK gals and the boys that like 'em.
It was a pleasure spending an afternoon outdoors drinking beer with men we usually spend afternoons drinking beer with indoors. We got to see old pals and meet quite a few new ones. We ate and drank with abandon. In hindsight, I probably should have eaten a bit more. Neither the small hamburger I devoured, nor the solitary artichoke leaf or even the two hot dog end-tips I stole from cute boys did anything in aiding in the absorption of the estuary of Miller Lite I consumed.
Much too late, Tim and I adjourned around the corner to Aunt Suzie's, a neighborhood red sauce joint. It was there I mentioned that it seemed imminently possible we were actually in San Francisco at that very moment. The odd thing is Tim understood, and agreed. I mean, drinking beer outdoors in a semi-industrial neighborhood in broad daylight, followed by a drunken dinner at the Sausage Factory on Castro Street. It made sense to us. Not to mention the fact that I'd never been in this particular part of Brooklyn before, and had great difficulties getting my bearings. My sense of direction would just not function, even after Tim kindly pointed out the Woolworth Building on the distant horizon.
We returned after dinner, and jumped back in the fray. By this time, all participants were extremely well lubricated. With no hesitation, I headed straight for the deep end; drinking, smoking and kissing a handful of attractive men. As has been mentioned before, I'm quite kissy when in my cups.
Somehow we managed to pile into a taxi with handsome John and Dustin and were whisked in a blur back to Nowhere Bar on 14th Street. We had one last beer with the many other Big Lug refugees who had repaired there after the BBQ, even though few of them can even remember that far into the evening. Tim and I finally crawled around the corner and into bed.
For reasons that escape me, the following morning was not nearly as painful as one might suppose.
For your edification, pictures are available here, and elsewhere.
As Mr. Coward might say, I couldn't have liked it more.