Author: grigiogirl

Anytime you can have two barbecues in one weekend you know you’re living right. The Leaver and QuQueen decided to host one of their infamous barbecues, complete with ring toss, boggle and good food and I, of course, decided to attend.

QuQueen had some of her family over and had already introduced me to her sister. As she was introducing me to her cousin she stated, “You two are going to be fast best friends.” This comment upset her sister, “What about us? You don’t think she and I are going to be fast best friends?” I told her QuQueen probably just figured we would be slow best friends – not that it would take us a long time to connect, just that we would be kind of “slow” together. This theory appeased Slow Best Friend.

The Leaver was busy preparing the meal and had a special treat on the menu: beets  (that’s right, Sleepless, the actual vegetable – beets twice in one week…I’m so healthy!). She assured us we were going to love her special beet technique, however, provided a pissclaimer, “This may turn things red so don’t be surprised later.” QuQueen was busy trying to line up Fast Best Friend with some of her cute single friends. She was asking him all kinds of question about what he might be looking for in a girl when I just cut to the chase, “Do you like cougars?”

Later, QuQueen started up my contribution to the barbecue – karaoke. She was singing “Bette Davis Eyes” and Try Singing? and I were appreciating the errors in the on-screen lyrics. Instead of “She’s precocious,” they read, “She’s precautious.” In “Forever Young,” instead of “I don’t want to perish like a fading horse,” it read, “I don’t want to perish likea flamingo.” I’m starting to like the alternate lyrics better than the actual lyrics.

Fast Best Friend really captured the karaoke moment when he sang “Lady in Red.” Mid-song, he changed the lyrics and gave a shout out, “This one is going out to you….Cougar in red.” It was really heartfelt, especially since I was wearing black. I thanked him kindly, yet remained precautious. Or was it precocious?

Area Man and I met up tonight to attend a barbecue at an alumni’s house. It’s been a while since we hung out and it has been even longer since Area Man has been out on the town, so he was in high demand.

Being that I had a prior commitment with Skiwi and Disco Dancing Dog Groomer, I could only stay at the barbeque for about an hour. Area Man, on the other hand, planned to stay the entire evening – the food was good, drinks were flowing and the company was outstanding.

Skiwi and Disco Dancing Dog Groomer welcomed me with a glass of wine and a lovely spread on the bistro. Skiwi was telling us about his bike ride (110 miles) today, when Disco Dancing Dog Groomer stated, “I’m the one that convinced him to go. I need him to go. I need my alone time.” Skiwi took this surprisingly well  and, a little while later when clearing the table, he held one of the plates to the window that read, “You Are Special.” He wanted to make sure Disco Dancing Dog Groomer truly understood how he felt.

Back at the barbecue (which I returned to after the bistro), the karaoke was exploding. By exploding, I mean about three people were taking their turns singing. Try Singing? was in town from the Bay area and brought the magic mic (from the Philippines) with him – so very cool in my opinion.  As the one o’clock hour approached, the home owner started shouting, “Last call, last call.” If you ever want to clear a room quick, just have some big, typsy bouncer/bartender type be present at the party and start yelling “Last call”, or just have that same guy fart.

Yesterday I visited my aunt. She has an infection in her mouth that has resulted in her being hospitalized for the past week. Her sister, also known as my mother, believes it started from her trying to dig a green grape out of her throat that she was choking on at a wedding several weeks ago. Maybe.

Not wanting to visit her empty handed I decided to stop and buy some flowers at the local grocer. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any vases so I headed to the local glass recycling bin and dug through the empty wine and liquor bottles until I found one with just the right look: Evan Williams Honey Reserve Kentucky Liqueur – Made with Extra-Aged Bourbon, Infused with Real Honey and, now, flowers. Perfect!

Later in the day, I met up with That’s Not Chinese and some other friends for the world famous production, Saturday’s Voyeur. If you ever drink with That’s Not Chinese, do not let her bring the plastic cups. She brought two cups for the two of us and as I was pouring the wine into what was my cup it started spraying out the side of the cup. We quickly remedied that by putting it inside the other plastic cup, which had an even bigger hole in the bottom so the wine was pouring all over my lap. Luckily, someone had a nice, hole-free, green plastic cup that they allowed us to borrow.

I had the privilege of sitting in between That’s Not Chinese and Be A Digger. Be A Digger decided to purchase snacks during intermission and was generous enough to share them with us. That’s Not Chinese was of the opinion that Be A Digger should pour the M&M’S in her hand and be sly enough to ensure a green M&M in the mix. Be A Digger wasn’t having any part of that. If we wanted part of her snack, we had to dig in the bag – whether we were digging for green, red, blue, yellow or orange.

During the last intermission, the Acting Company was giving away free green jello shots. Unfortunately, in their effort to save green, there was no liquor in the shot – just green jello. Nonetheless, Be A Digger and I decided to partake. They were delicious. So for all of you doubters out there, yesterday is proof that going green, or what I like to call greengo, is good.

Nothing beets hanging out with Sleepless and eating chocolate cake. Unless, of course, we are eating it as our entree and it is chocolate beet cake from More Than Just a “C” in the Box.  Sleepless and I pride ourselves in this healthy dietary choice – you can’t beat beets! Just our luck, it was $5 Sangria night. So, we asked one of our favorite bartenders, Late Bloomer, to make two with a kick of champagne. “Can you do that?” I asked him. “Yes, we can. In fact, I’m going to make you ladies something better than a Sangria. I’m going to make you a Cambria.”

While Late Bloomer was mixing our drinks, I ran into some friends. I suggested they try the chocolate beet cake and both Sleepless and I shared the nutritional value of the beet. Vegetable cake – who knew it was possible? Sadly, Late Bloomer informed us it is not the beet we were thinking of, rather, it was the sugar beet variety of the Chenopodiaceae family, not the Amaranth family. Sleepless was devastated to learn of this travesty. Late Bloomer, like any good bartender, was quick to provide good, sound advice, “No, no, don’t be sad. Go back, take it back to where you were before I told you and hold that belief close to your heart. Embrace it.”

A little later in the evening, Late Bloomer was telling us about the impact of the oil spill and that he took some of the contaminated shoreline to a city council meeting. After the oil company stated they had cleaned up all of the oil, Late Bloomer presented his shoreline sample to the group and suggested the Mayor, “Stick your finger in and smell it.” With all of his knowledge about beets and oils, I asked Late Bloomer if he was a scientist by trade. “No, I just care.” The Mayor did smell oil and Late Bloomer’s comment was aired on the news. The next day, he received loads of comments from his friends suggesting he stick his finger in and smell it.

I would stick my finger in the chocolate beet cake and smell it. More importantly, I would eat it! Late Bloomer dressed up our slice beautifully with whipped cream and “a raspberry for every bite.” The slice was rather large and, as decadent as it looked with the raspberries, we didn’t take that big of bites. We thanked him for his kindness and attention to detail and then Sleepless asked if we could get a few more raspberries. “Absolutely. Was that not enough?” asked Late Bloomer “Based on the slice, the number of berries, and the size of our bites, those aren’t raspberries, those are rationberries,” I replied. He returned with a shot glass full of raspberries, refreshed our Cambrias, and asked why we weren’t friends on facebook.

MiniMe, Flounder and I decided it was time we went out for a fine dining experience together. They opted for a local Parisian bistro with patio dining – an excellent choice. Prior to arriving I loosened my belt a bit – I wanted to leave feeling satisfied, but not bloated. You doing OK?, our waiter, did a fine job tending to our needs. Each time he came to our table he pursed his lips, gave a slight nod to the North, gently gazed with his eyes, and asked, “You doing OK?” As we were enjoying dessert he surprised us with a different question (same mannerisms), “Are your taste buds dancing?” I kindly replied, “”Oh, yes, they’re doing a little mambo with a side of tango. Thank you for asking.” He was a waiter I would wait on, and I’m no waiter.

 

Later in the evening I met up with The Leaver, QuQueen and their friends for karaoke at a non-Zagat bar. Unlike our regular non-Zagat karaoke bar, we weren’t the only people hoping to have a chance at the mic. QuQueen is always what one might call a proaraoke. She has mad vocal skills and knocked out “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes like she was Linda Perry herself.  A few minutes later I followed with a special version of “December 1963 (Oh, What a Night)”. Outside of a few awkward moments during the instrumental breaks, it was a crowd pleaser. During one instrumental break, The Leaver shouted out, “Do the robot!” So I gave it a go.

 

It was at this time, and a little later in the evening when we were all mixing it up on the dance floor, that I decided I was in need of a signature dance move. I thought about borrowing a few moves from my favorite wii game, Just Dance, and instead decided I would come up with something original: the hobot. It is a lot like the robot, but some of the moves are a little looser.

Not having played Boggle for at least a week, I was experiencing some withdrawals. Luckily, I received a text from The Leaver inviting me to join her and QuQueen for a game or two. Being that I was meeting up with Tree later, my time was limited – a factor that definitely increased the competitiveness. The game was going surprisingly well for everyone and The Leaver was actually finding words one could easily use in a sentence or find in a dictionary. During the last round, she pulled out the big guns with “shire”. We questioned her on the word and she informed us, with great confidence, “The shire is second in command to the kingdom.” Both QuQueen and I told her that was not true. QuQueen quickly googled “shire” and informed The Leaver it is a traditional word for a division of land found in the United Kingdom, Ireland and Australia. “I told you. Second in command, division of land in England – exactly the same.”

 

As hard it was to leave the comedic conversations with The Leaver and QuQueen, I knew Tree and I had big plans to hang on the stoop and drink wine so I hurried home. Tree had loads of stories to share with me and, as he shared them, we started talking about relationship dynamics. “It’s my mom’s fault none of my relationships work,” said Tree. “She always had cats, never dogs. I wanted to love the cats and they never wanted anything to do with me. They wanted me to love and feed them and they never reciprocated. Dogs on the other hand, they love you back. If I’d had a dog as a kid I wouldn’t have these problems.” Even as an adult, Tree still wants a cat for a pet and is holding out for the right Dolores. So cute.

 

My wheels started turning as we continued to talk about life, love and catlessness, so I suggested Tree and I make like lesbians on a second date and move in together – he’s going to consider it. I can pretty much guarantee that if we lived together we would have really, really, really good music playing all of the time.

OregganO and I haven’t hung out for a while, at least a week, so we decided to get together for stoop time. Just prior to her arriving I was surveying my yard when I discovered a 30 foot long 10 foot wide branch that appeared to have fallen off of a large tree and into my garden. I knew we could lift it, because we’re like that, but thought it might help if we could cut it up a bit. I immediately sent OregganO a text asking if she had a chainsaw with her. Surprisingly, she did not.

Upon her arrival, and before tree retrieval, I offered her the standing menu item at my house: grilled cheese sandwich. Special to the sandwich on this occasion, was a Tuscan Herb Olive Oil (in place of butter). OregganO is not always a fan of my sandwiches. A direct result of a little menu mishap in March (Wax Paper for Taste). I promised her wax paper was not on the menu and just as I was taking it from the stove top to the counter top, it flipped off of the spatula and onto the kitchen floor. This was also not on the menu. She kindly ate it anyway.

Sitting on the stoop was great. Our bellies were full with grilled cheese (and whatever was on the floor) and we were sipping two great wines. Me, white. OregganO, red. It was slightly warm, so I turned on the sprinklers to 1) water the lawn and b) cool us down. Being that I don’t have fancy automatic sprinklers, I had to strategically place the hose and sprinkler head on various spots throughout the yard.

This is more dangerous than one might think. While doing this last year I attempted to run through the active sprinkling hose and my flip flop blewout causing me to go sliding across the sidewalk; much like one would on a Slip n’ Slide Waverider, minus the Slip n’ Slide Waverider. Fortunately, I didn’t experience as much trauma this go round. I did, however, break my toe trying to clear the water on my way back to the stoop. Another non-menu item.

OregganO and I were continuing with our stoop activities: drinking, observing and chatting it up, when we noticed a vehicle pull up in front of my neighbor’s house. It wasn’t a car we recognized and, within no time, they were dealing drugs. We notified authorities, however, the dealers were well on their way to other deals. We apologized to dispatch and told them we would have called sooner had we known they were dealing drugs, but we didn’t know. We had no idea drug deals we’re on the evening menu.

All of this activity was a bit overwhelming for us so I pulled out some items I received in a surprise package today via the United States Postal System. OregganO was proper impressed. I reminded her, “pink end out.” As we each had one in our mouth I told her, “It has been at least fifteen years since I’ve had a candy cigarette. I used to love these. I even wrote a poem about it.” I opted not to read it then – we’d already had our fair share of non-menu items.

YummYummy and I had a fabulous time eating and drinking our way across New York City the past few days. We definitely mastered the art of doing as much of both as possible while maintaining stamina and avoiding gut rot.

Per Venn’s recommendation, we visited The Plaza Hotel for a Pimm’s Cup. Although not on the menu, the bartender will gladly oblige your request and you will be pleasantly surprised by this flavorful concoction. Since the World Cup Final was on, we decided to stick around for a bit and have one of the drinks featured on the summer menu. It was tasty in a bad tasty kind of way – we should have just had another Pimm’s Cup,

If you ever want a posh place to watch the World Cup, go to The Rose Bar at The Plaza. The loo is fantastic, atmosphere is lovely and it is free – unless, of course, you factor in the drinks. Two drinks will cost you about $50, which includes tip, so that’s not too shabby considering you are in the hotel in which Eloise wreaked havoc. If you decide you really like the atmosphere, the penthouse is currently on the market for a cool $50 million – almost exactly the same price as the drinks, with a few extra zeros.

One perk to hanging out with YummYummy is we have very similar eating habits. Meaning, we both really like to eat. In fact, I would go so far as to say we eat like we *#%@, a lot. Actually, we just liked saying that this weekend because we thought it was funny. We did, however, make it a point to have an appetizer, entrée or dessert (or all three if we so desired) at each restaurant or pub we frequented. Sometimes, we would wake up and have latefast and, about an hour later, have lunch. I think this type of consumption is required when visiting New York. Probably State law or, at the least, a rule of conduct. Unless, of course, you are using the loo at Grand Central Station. In which case drinking alcoholic beverages and bathing (especially at the same time), may result in your arrest. Wish we would have known those rules going in…….

After a twelve-hour power nap, YummYummy and I decided to head to Nations Cafe for french toast, waffles, bacon, eggs and mimosas. Great way to wake up! It was at Nations that we decided to log a few of this weekend’s comments/conversations:

I only like to steal things when people aren’t looking.

I have to tell you, there’s some shit you’ll see and it’s not a side, it’s an entree.

My shorts are going up my ass. It’s because you’re hungry.

There’s something on your boob. Yeah, your eyes.

How ’bout that, England!?!?!

I’ve got some hair in my beard.

I’ve never seen a guy with a vag on the back of his head….until today.

I was starting to get a hangover that took so long (waiting for our next mimosa).

Write that down, no, really, write ‘write that down’.

Oh, yes, you can!

There’s an app for that.

I can’t wink – there’s an app for that.

It’s all on the website ladies – add me as a friend on facebook!

Please don’t pull out your library card. I’ll feel like such a loser.

What happens in my pants, stays in my pants.

That’s NOT chapstick!

You know what I love about us? We’re so classy!

I just want a shot that makes my tongue blue. Is that too much to ask?

I used to train cops. What did you train them in? Don’t worry about it. (Talking to the Times Square NYPD Officers – one of whom had the last name of Creamer – Cop Creamer, no lie.)

It seems to me The People’s Court would be the best option for resolving this matter.

We’ve been summoned to the street corner.  (Again, us, talking to the TS NYPD Officers)

Please disperse. (what we would tell people passing by)

You blondes, please disperse. You’re in our turf now bitches.

If anyone ever tells you power naps are not good, especially the twelve-hour version, I strongly suggest you kindly ask them to disperse. Without the nap, comments like these may not have occurred. Maybe later, if you’re good, I’ll tell you about some of the apps we created.

YummYummy and I wasted no time getting into the NY scene. Within an hour of arriving we went straight to Joe’s Pub to hear Billy Simons, who is an amazing Indie artist. Just as we were walking into the pub, we ran into a friend I met here 7 years ago. She and her friends joined us at our table (word on the streets is you should have a table reservation – which we did).

 

Billy is a quick change artist when it comes to hats. He has oodles of hats and changes them like a magician pulls rabbits out of a hat – without hesitation, right before your eyes and just when you didn’t see it coming. His hats sparked a memory for YummYummy. A while back she dated a Jewish guy, sans Yamika. “I have to admit, I get slightly aroused now when I see a man with a Yamika.” I told her she was in luck because New York has both the oldest and largest Jewish community in North America. We made a vow to keep an eye out for manchovies and tenderonis donning a Yamika.

 

Staying with the pub theme, we headed to Peculier for drinks and conversation with Billy. It’s been very hot in NYC, so when the ceiling started dripping on us we were actually refreshed. YummYummy was convinced it was jizz. It didn’t taste like jizz.

We spent Friday streetwalking. Another “community” that is large in NYC. YummYummy was proper impressed with the hofessional on 5th Ave and 38th. Her dress was “low so you could see her slack tits, with a large brass ring to keep it together and gathered, an oval hole to expose her belly button and start a game of tattoo peek-a-boo.” I’m not familiar with the number of years one must work on the streets before retiring, but I think they’ll be holding a party for her soon. She probably won’t get a 30-year paperweight. A 30-year supply of Obama Condoms would make more sense. The Hard Times Collection seems the most “fitting”.

 

HObama and ImPalin were some of the funniest people we encountered on the streets yesterday. They are actors trying to pay their bills and have decided to do so selling the Obama Condoms. Their catchy pitches are what drew us in, “Come check out my package…oh, yes you can…..the ultimate stimulus package….the Oreo pack: two Obamas on the outside and a Palin in the middle.” If you haven’t seen or purchased these condoms you really should. I asked HObama how this gig was working out for them, “I’d be happy to show you. Meet us in room 427 in about two hours.” HObama was hopeful, very Obama of him. Yet, like the condom package reads, “Hope is not a form of protection.”

 

As we were leaving the streets for the evening we heard a sales pitch to close all deals, “If you buy them tonight I’ll throw in as many free midgets as you want. They’re biracial.”