There was a game of foosball. Now I don’t much follow the foosball and I don’t much like girls because girls are the devil.
So I decided I would watch the foosball grand final, which is actually pronounced f-o-o-t-b-a-l-l… Apparently… And is also more correctly known as rugby league Queenie has just informed me. And what’s my favorite thing about rugby? Absolutely nothing. Except maybe the food. Buffalo wings with celery and blue cheese sauce, sticky belly (that’s pork belly. Not like man who go to sleep with hand on willy, wake up with jellyfish on tummy-type sticky belly), potato salad, and leftover Lainsys birthday lamb kebabs with smoked eggplant hommus, labne, pinenut tabouleh and some other good shit. And we drank stuff that made our faces smile and our heads feel a little less cloudy. It seemed like it helped us talk better too, but I think this was a fictitious reality.
So the reality of the situation was this. I tried to show interest in the game. I asked questions. I CARED. But that game of football was just as entertaining as I had pre-empted it to be. But, before I knew it, it was over… And I had seen a mere five minutes of the game.
By this stage the kitchen had opted for only it’s A-team (Queenie and I). We prepped salsas and sauces and a heap of other great stuff. God made the beer and wine, and once again, we thanked him for it. Liz, a child of the lord, was given the task of bringing forth said beer.
“…and the Lord said-eth to his disciples rejoice my disciples, rejoice*”, Liz would say.
“K”, we replied.
Queenie manned the frier, maybe with a little more frivolity then these situations normally require. I think he may have been under the influence of some of the holy brew Liz had procured earlier. But we ate, the kid lived and everyone was happy.
This night the ghost of Midnight Drunkard Barney appeared again, dragging himself from peripheral obscurity into the realms of reality, for this time I viewed him with my own eyes. It was closer to midnight when i got up for a little wee and maybe a sip of water. I can’t remember exact details, but the one thing I do remember is that shadowy figure suddenly appearing and offering me a dirty martini. I admit i thought about it for a second or two but my better judgement** told me to move on.
Stay tuned folks, part three to follow.
*I think it is quite possibly becoming clear that we did not actually spend this Sunday held close to the bossom of the Lord.
**a mythical principle in my mind