A Memorial Day Weekend Quite Memorable

Anne and Dave, The Pines, Fire Island, NY ~ May 28, 2006

I awoke at 3 this morning with food poisoning. AWESOME! Must have been some bad cock in Fire Island. I jest. The cock was fine, the burger was not. Yesterday my friends and I spent a glorious day at the beach, swimming, sunning, laughing, and most importantly, making fun of people. The Pines beach on Fire Island is the prettiest place to watch the prettiest boys stroll by. And of course, some not so pretty. My friends are picky, as am I, and we tend to have the same taste in men, a man's man. "No 90 lb Weakling Redheads with Hamster Hands Need Apply" is my credo. Theirs is "No fats, No fems, No Asians".

It's hard to say why people make the choices in swimwear that they do. I mean, I'm willing to admit that at this apex of my non-fitness career study, I've on several occasions looked better in my swimsuit. However, I'm sure there have been times when I've looked worse. The key here is to fool the eye and accentuate the positives by wearing something that flatters what you've still got goin' on. The people don't need to know you're a lazy bitch and you've got cottage cheese thighs? In other words: if you have a wide skinny ass and no junk, you do not need to be wearing that baggy speedo. You tried, but you chose wrong. It's times like these that you need good friends and family who aren't afraid to hurt you in order to help you.

I'm not sure which was more fun, scoping out the hot ones or ragging on the terrible ones. Ok, no doubt, the latter was more fun for me. After awhile, a straight broad's gonna get bored with that kind of cock n' balls show, and at some point we're going to want a little unwanted attention, for someone to stare at us like a hot piece of ass, look at our tits, instead as a fag hag cock blockers we are. Unless of course, you're a 300 lb fag hag with no self-esteem who has given up hope of ever finding a man, but that's another story. Anway, we had a blast, high up on our beach towels, behind our sunglasses and hats, ripping them to shreds.

"Some people are too comfortable with themselves," Tuna said. "Sure, it's all great that we've learned to love ourselves despite our imperfections, but it's just gone too far."

"It's all about realizing when to settle," Dave said. "That couple knew it a long time ago."

I always forget that gays come in all the horrible shapes and sizes that the straights do, which is a shame really. Life can be so cruel. After a few good hours we took our Male Critique Roadshow on shore and to the outside bar for a few more brews, boy spectating, and dinner. And dinner is where unbeknownst to me, the trouble started.

All I will say about food poisoning is that your body says "Evacuate!" and it means business, and business means, you sleep in the bathroom because you are exploding from north to south.

Then I awoke from my business to hear Bush on the radio for his Memorial Day speech and the Iraq war and the soldiers who have given their lives and then works 9/11 into it somehow, you know, because Saddam Hussein was behind the whole thing and all. Jackass! He's using liberally enough that I have decided that the next time I am spoken to at work about my chronic 15-minute tardiness I will reply simply "9/11. " And they will pardon me because that is the American thing to do.

Ok, so, I slept on the tile floor, and Doodle was at first interested with my choice of bed chamber and then almost immediately as annoyed that I was sick as a dog and not paying her any mind, and not happy with Fancy Feast's Fish Medley. Sure, it looked gross, but that's exactly why I thought she'd like it. Whatever. So anyway, she thought she'd busy herself with a little creative and persistent door opening, and a little piss festival on the runner in the hallway that has been a bone of contention in this household for three years now. Ha Ha! AWESOME!

Then today got still more interesting when I was forced into a gauche shouting match over the phone with my upstairs neighbor about some money* he owes me for his kid leaving the water on and ruining my apartment. Who doesn't love a shouting match when one was just hours earlier pissing out her nostrils? What better time to fight than en route to her morning coffee? Just pay me the money, assshole! Your kid's retarded and he fucked up. Now pay up.

Top all that shit off with a refrigerator that is leaking and me dealing with thousands of paper towels and rubber gloves and a bucket--to a cat who has disappeared down the back stairs to go hunt mice and bring them back here, and I'd say:

I will not forget this Memorial Day Weekend for quite some time, but I sincerely do hope the rest of you had a nice holiday. The weather sure was nice.

*I'll say it's some money--it's close to 4 friggin' grand! And what about the pain and suffering?