![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Firemen! Yum!
Oct. 16th, 2006 10:19 amWords you never want to hear at your 50th birthday party: "Can you let me into the space under the house, because it's on fire. Oh, and I'll need a bucket of water. Possibly a few."
Before we got to that point, though, Mike's party was a lighthearted, fun wee shindig. A keg, fine weather, and a motley collection of freaks and weirdoes dressed in their finest fetish wear. Though, I must admit, I was having a 'hungover suburban afternoon' fetish, hence the jeans and teeshirt. Morris and Paul3 hit it off immediately, and there wasn't a time in the whole evening when you couldnt hear one or the other of them giggling madly. I stood quietly in the corner and made polite conversation with a few select friends- and if you believe *that* then you're more gullible than I thought!!
At least we didn't set the pinata on fire, though it was a miracle that Paul didn't get clobbered as he ducked through the circle to get a better vantage point. Pinatas aren't a big part of kiwi culture, a bit like halloween and sweet pumpkin pie, and everyone was much amused to see Mike, the big burly beardy biker, flailing around under a brightly decorated crepe cow. He did share his candy at the end though.
And then came the barbeque, complete with house-razing action. Squirty put on his chefs hat (figuratively speaking, of course. Squirty was actually wearing a fetching wee number- assless chaps and a harness. Oh, and shoes. But I digress...) and cooked up a storm- hot dogs and burgers, fantastic, though everyone kept asking for the big weiner... the one with the piercing. Hint to Squirty: the ceaseless weiner jokes could have been avoided by wearing pants, though I'm not complaining ;-). The fun began when everyone noticed the delicious woodsmoke smell in the burgers, which was odd given that it was a gas barbeque. "Should the burners be up that high?" asked Paul. "Oh shit, that's the house!"
Here's a tip: never put your gas barbeque up against your wooden house. There may be vents on the back of the barbeque, and they may get hot.
Here's another tip: telling your hosts "Excuse me, but your house is on fire. Can I have a bucket of water, please?" will produce the most facscinating display of synchronised expression change. Huh? Did he say...??? Yikes!!
And another: Drunk people dont make good firemen. They take forever to get organised, either panicking too much or not enough, and then once you've put the fire out and the wood is sodden and cold, they all turn up with half the contents of the local reservoir delivered in cups, flowerpots, upturned hats, shoes, and anything resembling a hollow vessel.
Squirty bravely cooked on through the inferno and subsequent deluge, and once we were done dousing I discovered that yes, the burgers *did* have a delicious smokey flavour. 100-year-old kauri wood will do that.
Eventually it was time to go; Paul3's cheeks hurt from laughing, David had more beer on the outside than the inside, and Squirty's arse was tender from all the fondling. And besides, I had to get *some* sleep over the weekend. One last check that the house was still cold and not smouldering, and we were off. Thanks for a lovely party, Mike!!
Before we got to that point, though, Mike's party was a lighthearted, fun wee shindig. A keg, fine weather, and a motley collection of freaks and weirdoes dressed in their finest fetish wear. Though, I must admit, I was having a 'hungover suburban afternoon' fetish, hence the jeans and teeshirt. Morris and Paul3 hit it off immediately, and there wasn't a time in the whole evening when you couldnt hear one or the other of them giggling madly. I stood quietly in the corner and made polite conversation with a few select friends- and if you believe *that* then you're more gullible than I thought!!
At least we didn't set the pinata on fire, though it was a miracle that Paul didn't get clobbered as he ducked through the circle to get a better vantage point. Pinatas aren't a big part of kiwi culture, a bit like halloween and sweet pumpkin pie, and everyone was much amused to see Mike, the big burly beardy biker, flailing around under a brightly decorated crepe cow. He did share his candy at the end though.
And then came the barbeque, complete with house-razing action. Squirty put on his chefs hat (figuratively speaking, of course. Squirty was actually wearing a fetching wee number- assless chaps and a harness. Oh, and shoes. But I digress...) and cooked up a storm- hot dogs and burgers, fantastic, though everyone kept asking for the big weiner... the one with the piercing. Hint to Squirty: the ceaseless weiner jokes could have been avoided by wearing pants, though I'm not complaining ;-). The fun began when everyone noticed the delicious woodsmoke smell in the burgers, which was odd given that it was a gas barbeque. "Should the burners be up that high?" asked Paul. "Oh shit, that's the house!"
Here's a tip: never put your gas barbeque up against your wooden house. There may be vents on the back of the barbeque, and they may get hot.
Here's another tip: telling your hosts "Excuse me, but your house is on fire. Can I have a bucket of water, please?" will produce the most facscinating display of synchronised expression change. Huh? Did he say...??? Yikes!!
And another: Drunk people dont make good firemen. They take forever to get organised, either panicking too much or not enough, and then once you've put the fire out and the wood is sodden and cold, they all turn up with half the contents of the local reservoir delivered in cups, flowerpots, upturned hats, shoes, and anything resembling a hollow vessel.
Squirty bravely cooked on through the inferno and subsequent deluge, and once we were done dousing I discovered that yes, the burgers *did* have a delicious smokey flavour. 100-year-old kauri wood will do that.
Eventually it was time to go; Paul3's cheeks hurt from laughing, David had more beer on the outside than the inside, and Squirty's arse was tender from all the fondling. And besides, I had to get *some* sleep over the weekend. One last check that the house was still cold and not smouldering, and we were off. Thanks for a lovely party, Mike!!
