Planning events with my friends is a lot like planning a wedding – only about 70% of those who you invite actually attend and a fully stocked bar is appreciated. I decided to host a brunch and invited twelve of my closest friends. Unlike a wedding, only 40% attended. Fortunately, like a wedding, we had plenty of beverages.
Immediately upon arriving, Skiwi was assessing my entertaining amenities. “You need speakers in here,” he said while checking out all of the corners of my home. He spent the rest of the time, outside of the quarter of an hour or more that he was fixing my fanlight while DDDG held his legs so he wouldn’t fall off the chair, assessing my speaker needs and discussing his ‘zones’ with others.
After Skiwi and DDDG left, That’s Not Chinese, Tree and I were sharing stories with Oreggano. “I cashed in all of my coins for a bottle of wine,” Tree informed us. “The worst part was, the wine store was closed, so I had to drive all the way into the city (approximately ten miles) to buy it and when I got to the liquor store I realized I didn’t have my ID. So, I picked up FatGirl and secretly exchanged money for liquor in the parking lot. It was like a drug deal.”
“Speaking of deals,” Oreggano interjected and then turned her attention towards That’s Not Chinese, “What’s the deal with you and boys? I thought you liked girls.” That’s Not Chinese, in typical That’s Not Chinese fashion, said, “Look,” took a sip of champagne, put her left hand in the air in the ‘talk to the hand’ position, closed her eyes for a second, and then finished her statement. “I’m not a lesbian, but I deal with those types and sometimes end up in relationships with them.” “Girl, you’re feral like Errol,” I informed her. ‘Feral like Errol’ is a new little catch phrase Tree and I proposed last night when discussing brunch. He mentioned he was “In like Flynn,” and then asked what it meant. I mentioned Errol Flynn and, well, that is how our magic happens.
Later in the evening, That’s Not Chinese, Dr. BJ, Disdain and I went to a wedding reception where people were both in and ‘out’ like Flynn and we, as usual, were feral like Errol. Like many events with my friends, the bar was fully stocked. Unlike some events with my friends, attendance was high, at approximately 60%.
Dr. BJ was very excited about the reception because he and several of his friends were going to perform to Single Ladies by Beyonce. He had been practicing the routine for at least a week and had even opted against going out once so he could break in his new shoes, “I’m just going to go home, put my heels on, and iron.”
With only minutest to prep, That’s Not Chinese and I assisted Dr. BJ with his make-up, while Disdain documented the event. The dressing room was incredibly hot, so the main performer, Hell Savior, found us a different room. As we were all making our way into the new room, he humbly brought attention to his efforts, “You’re welcome for being saved from hell.” “Wow, Hell Savior, thank you,” I quipped. “You should get ‘hell’ tattooed on your ass and then you can tell people to go there and win again!” Hell Savior batted his glittery green eyelids at me, smiled and said, “I’d like that.”
Then he put one hand on his hip, the other in front of him, gyrated his hips and uh oh oh oh oh ohed his way to the dance floor, with Dr. BJ in tow. Very feral.