Party
Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.
Since the dawn of time or the Spring 2005, there’s been this thing called TequilaCon where a group of bloggers gather together and discuss important things. It’s a fairly selective group of respected writers. ‘Revered’ is probably a more appropriate word. There’s generally a very large, formal dinner, (alcohol free, of course) during which various members of the gathering take turns standing at a podium to read excerpts from their blog. It’s pretty emotional. There are tears. Music is a big part of the occasion, as well. Traditionally, during the dessert course, this guy will whip out his Jew’s harp and perform Kenny G’s Silhouette in its entirety. Sometimes a poetry slam breaks out.
It’s an extremely solemn affair. We’re very serious about what we do. And who we are. Seriously.
After dinner, the congregation retires to a room containing a large stainless steel table upon which sits a mountain of Columbia’s cocaine, pure and white as a newly-fallen snow. At some point after this, an orgy inevitably erupts involving a LOT of vegetable oil. And dolphins. One year, a bunch of dwarves dressed like R2D2 showed up. Since this year’s festivities were in Canada, I think gravy and back bacon were somehow employed. Not sure, though. There are no pictures.
I don’t recall whether or not I wore socks, either, though if I did, I’m sure that they were sufficiently rocked off.
Sir @ December 9, 2010
Dude! Ixnay on the ocainecay! Now EVERYBODY is going to show up at the next one, and there won’t be enough to go around! Plenty of vegetable oil though, of course. Jenny makes her purchases in 50-gallon drums, so there’s no worries about running out any time soon.
That wasn’t a jews harp, that was my electrolarynx! And I wasn’t performing kenny g, i was trying to tell you i was choking! but yeah, i can see the confusion.
THERE WAS POETRY??? Oh sure… drop ME at the “cover” party, where all we had were beers, temporary tattoos, and some guy dressed like a bottle of tequila. And somebody made me eat a soup of despair at some point, I think it was called ‘poutine.’ WHAT-ever.
Next time, I’M driving.