Let's see... a slip n slide, tropical paradise beach basement suspensions, a stripper for a birthday who ended up asking if she could hang out at a party when she was off-duty, squirt gun battles, someone doing their damnedest to see if the motor on the hitachi would run out before they died of dehydration from too many orgasms, me somehow NOT lighting myself on fire while wearing a straw hat and grass skirt and grilling about a half a cow, a couple of chickens and a good chunk of pig. How did nobody end up in the hospital? Or jail? Or trying to find a fire extinguisher to put me out while I burned alive from pretending to be a walking brush fire? and when the fuck did I take off my pants?
Fucking wizardry is all I can come up with.
There was nothing good about any of these ideas. The only thing that would have made it a worse idea would be if I had made some Death Juice (151 or higher proof clear alcohol, rum, vodka, a shitload of juice and Gatorade) to go with it and replaced the water in the squirt guns with Everclear.
An for the record, I'm going to be finding fucking sand in my house for the next ever. It's second only to glitter when it comes to herpes comparisons.
But did anyone take any pictures of that? Sorry... I'm still amused at myself for thinking "hey, a tarp, some play sand, and an inflatable palm tree sitting in my basement makes it fucking tropical.". I never bothered to take a picture of it before people started playing on it.
All we needed was a kiddie pool filled with KY or jello and we could have really made it a day at the beach.
I'm just thankful the weather cooperated.
So thank you to everyone that came out, everyone that brought food or beverages, and everyone for having some fucking fun and indulging my "let's make Joe's house into a beach party!" momentary delusion.
One of these times at a party, I'll actually be able to take the time to try to play. It seems like every time, there's more play, more fun, more insanity, and virtually zero problems. Let's keep that shit up.
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