Prepare . . . for total domination.
Latest Entry Older Entries
6.6.01
Dances With Elks, Volume I
(Jamie is in normal font, and Maggie is in italics)

So the whole reason I took that hell-flight to Ohio is because of my littlest sister's high school graduation this past Sunday.

But before you can have a graduation, you have to have a party.

And before you can have a party, you have to have Maggie.

So I called Mags, a few weeks ago, telling her to write IN PEN on her calendar that her presence is requested at Carrie's graduation party Saturday afternoon.

She emailed me Saturday, saying she was running behind, but she's on her way.

Cool.

That morning I actually debated going, even though I promised Jamie that I would be there.

You see, I had a big, important awards ceremony to attend Sunday morning.

Not only did I have to be at this ceremony, but I had to look good, and I had to be witty and charming enough to kiss Important Newspaper People ass.

With that in mind, I knew that visiting Jamie's hometown would be a problem for two reasons.

1. I had no clue how to get from Jamie's parents' house to Columbus for the ceremony.

2. Jamie always gets me incoherently wasted.

I knew that by going, I was entering a dark world of gin, slobber and most likely, vomit. But I also knew that there was adventure waiting for us -- there always is.

And two hours into the party, I too, was debating whether or not Maggie would actually come.

But she did indeed arrive, in her curly red-headed glory. We immediately bypassed the beer set out in favor of the secret stash of Tanquery.

Tanq and tonics, 2 limes each, coming up.

So we hung out at the party for a while, wading our way through what seemed like hundreds of dogs and babies. I don't know why my family has so many dogs and babies.

We congratulated Carrie and watched her open presents. We ate wings and spinach dip. Mmm.

I wish I had some spinach dip right now.

After all that, we hooked up with my sister Mollie and my cousin Jen.

I know the sounds weird, but Mollie is an Elk. So she decided to take the three of us to the lodge. Four cute girls. Dozens of Elks.

Let me just back up a sec.

The rest of the suckers at the party are slurping down sodas or Miller Lites. But Jame decides to slyly make a few gin and tonics for us.

Her dad tells us to be kind of subtle about it, so I'm hiding the coveted lime wedges in my hand, while Jamie pours a few shots of gin into our party cups.

She twists the top off the tonic bottle, which -- KABLOOIE! --

explodes all over the kitchen. (Real subtle, sweetie.) Everybody stops and stares. Jamie's sister, Mollie, breaks the silence by shouting, "Wooooo! Let's get this party started!" Hee. Good cover.

OK, back to the Elks.

Really, there's nothing I love better than gin and dirty old men. Put the two together, and I'm set to go. So the Elks Lodge was a little slice of heaven, really.

Oh, yeah. I forgot about Old Faithful = Schweppes.

So we go to the Elk Lodge. It's, well, a lodge. Older men and some older women, hanging out in a dark room with a bar. The entire room froze when we walked in.

We sauntered over to a table while Mollie and Jen went up to the bar.

Everyone was there for some raffle thing. Maggie and I were there for gin and tonic.

After the first round, we didn't buy another drink all night. Shots materialized in front of us, as well. If you've never had the shot, "Hot Apple Pie," you must. Post haste.

Once we commandeered the juke box, things really started getting fun.

It was like my favorite dream had finally come true -- The Never-ending Gin and Tonic.

Mollie and I turned into furious gamblers, forking over $10s and $20s for these little pull-off tickets called Woodies.

Eventually we won $50, which we split.

Then us gals cranked out a bunch of party tunes on the juke box, like "I Will Survive" and "Livin' La Vida Loca."

Our booties were shakin', and the old guys were quakin'.

My favorite old guy, a wrinkled little flirt named Bill (I think), was wearing a brown corduroy sports coat. He was a good six inches shorter than me, and he just kept looking up -- first to my boobs, then to my face, then to the boobs again -- and shouting "WHOA! WHOA!"

We shelled out a few more bucks for the juke box, playing Temptations, Beach Boys, Aretha and more.

Then Mollie had to bring us all down again by playing Britney.

Oops ... she did it again.

To be continued...

The Realm of Monkey Love
chatty chat about news and such
buy stuff; feed poor kids