The Spit Roast… hehem

PIG ON A SPIT

There are places I could go with a title like that. Places some people might call their happy place while others would call them dark, sinister places. Places that I will be steering clear of today. A moment of compassion? Maybe. Still got a bit of a fuzzy head and really can’t put in the required effort? Most likely. What the hell am I talking about? Read on my friend, read on…

I need help. My brain is really effing sore. I need a bedpan, a bucket, a brush, and a real effing doctor… and I need to try to keep it together long enough to tell this story.
Consuming alcohol like a sixteen year old wasn’t so painful as a sixteen year old. But now, 20 years on and I still have the odd relapse and that shit just doesn’t feel to cool the next day. I mean sure I looked cool at the time, no one would dispute that; I was tearing up the dance floor with John Travolta flair. The witty and absolutely hilarious conversation flowed from my mouth like tears from apprentice’s eyes. Only the bride herself possibly outshined my radiance… And maybe the groom… My wife… The rest of the crowd… Someone’s great Aunty… Fuck it. Lets face it. I probably may not have been the classiest, funniest, best dancer there. But my head told me I had pretty good time.
Disclaimer; there may possibly be people (or monsters or aliens or puppy dogs) out there that are going be thinking, or maybe they’ll even write in, that booze is the devil and you don’t need to drink to be cool etc. etc. Yeah yeah, it’s all been said before. We all know. It is pretty funny from time to time though…

And the culprit? What made me do it? The devil? No. This time it was a wedding that is responsible for my sore brain. That’s right, a wedding. It certainly couldn’t be my fault. No no no, that would be way too easy.
Aside from purchasing myself a ripper of a hangover, another thing I did at this wedding was spit roast a little piggy.

I ate my pork straight from every different part of the pig as Queenie and I carved it for the masses, which I do declare is a bloody fine way to consume our porcine friend. Also, just to keep the social aspect going on, I had some in a roll with apple and fennel slaw, and chimmichurri sauce. Dericious. There was also plenty of other good shit to eat, but it was a porky dinner for me this day.

That’s me done…