BBQ'd Fat!

Is it just me, or does everyone in this foto either looked stoned or angry? It may just be the worst group foto I've seen of these incredibly unattractive people. No, I take that back. They really look more like surprised robots than anything. Well, no matter. They're definitely not having fun.

Guess the meat!

Anyway, as one of the few meat-eaters in a throng of vegetarians, Fatty is damn tired of eating fake beef products. I just had to get that off my chest.

And so, one far-too-cold-for-BBQing evening, Fatty laid a slab of pork/beef/random meat on the grill. It was a proud moment as the meat juices from my sausage leaked into the nearby soy-dogs and veggie patties. Fatty wept with joy.

Ironically, the BBQ was planned by vegetarians Liana and Chris, I believe. But they don't give a damn about getting a little meat juice in their tummies, most likely because they often have too much liquor there already.

Our evening started at 6-ish. OK, I actually have no idea when the evening started, but that's a good enough guess. First there was a short trip to Andronico's, where some produce-packing loser made me put my camera away. "No photos in Andronico's!"

Foto by Henry

Stocked with fake meat and sausage products, along with a jar of pickles that disappeared practically overnight, the Fatties returned to Addison Street to annoy our neighbors with the barbecue. I think we ate like at 10 or something. (Three weeks later, the barbecue is still sitting outside, by the way. Hi, neighbors!) Everyone really liked Liana's BBQ'd potatoes.

Laura got drunk for the first time ever, a proud moment for all of us. Henry enjoyed the papasan. Liana slaved in the kitchen. Mark and Fatty nearly burned the building down with squirts of lighter fluid. We all toasted the late great Harry Caray.

Oh, and Fatty discovered, after about six years, that her PlayStation actually plays CDs in addition to Final Fantasy games.

Buns in the oven!

At some point the group traveled to a new local bar which is apparently for hip people only, although I was totally unaware of this until the next day when someone informed me that everybody at the bar was dressed far better than we were. Imagine that.

When we got back from the bar, sometime after 2 a.m., Liana and Chris retired to the bathroom, where they did strange things with Fatty's glasses and toilet paper. Not at the same time. You guys try to figure it out. It makes no sense to the rest of us (Liana and Chris included). Liana seems to recall something about riding the toilet sled. And why does Chris look like Grandma? Are those really my glasses?

Amazingly, there were no hangovers at Fatty's house the next day. Wish we could say the same for our guests.

RIP, Harry Caray.





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