It was a great party.
We went through a couple hundred pounds of ice, a gallon and a half or so of vodka and several bottles of other kinds of spirits and loads of beer. There was also bottled water and soft drinks on ice, for those not booze-inclined, the diabetics, and the designated drivers.
There was Italian sausage, kielbasa, baked ziti, chicken, and a small boatload of hot dogs and burgers, and salads of all descriptions. Finally, there was an array of desserts (many home-made) that could send one into sugar shock just by walking too close to the table.
Ken and I did not fare that well in the horseshoe pits, losing initially to our archrivals, and being mercilessly taunted by the bastards, the poor winners that they are. They took great joy in reminding us that our loss to them put us in the LOSERS’ brackets. We then went on to beat one other loser teams (Eddie, the mechanic, and his wife, who never played horseshoes before – not a victory we could brag very much about). We then lost a close one to another pair of losers, one of whom (Bill the Ham) threw off his right foot (like a girrrrrlll) and the other, born and raised in Scotland and who probably would be a great horse shoe player if he were allowed to kick the horse shoes instead of pitching them (it’s that soccer thing). Since last night, I have been pondering credible excuses to explain our less than stellar performance. I think I’m going with “bad ice.”
A couple memorable (at least to me) quotes that I can remember.
I hate that fiddley shit
The Original Bill on his opinion of the Dixie Chicks.
I never had a haggis until I came here.
Jim, from Scotland, on his experience with that dreadful Scottish specialty.
Do you think you could go higher?
One of the female Usual Suspects (who, for obvious reasons, shall remain nameless) on her thoughts during a recent foot and leg massage by “Gio,” which precedes a pedicure.
So, have you assholes found anyone you can beat?
One of our arch rivals who were blessed with incredible luck yesterday in the pits.
It really was a great day.
On a more serious note, one of the archrivals, the ever-hilarious Art, will be going into the hospital tomorrow for some cardiac surgery (to prevent potential problems down the road). We all are pulling for his speedy recovery. Of course, this means that the next time we kick his ass, he’ll be blaming the heart thing.