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Sumo Follies
I made the mistake of trying to go to a party in the Hillcrest area during the Gay Pride Festival. Not that there’s anything wrong with that...other than road closures and parking problems!
My girlfriend and I found our location and someone was leaving as we pulled up. When I saw a pedicab with two heavy-set women starting to roll backwards, I jumped out and helped push them up the hill.
A couple of guys whistled and hollered about how good my legs looked. The ladies in the pedicab laughed. I said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the fact that I’m being treated like a piece of meat back here.”
When we walked up to the “Thanksgiving in July” party, we couldn’t believe the length of the table. It was probably 800 feet long.
My girlfriend felt guilty that we showed up without any food. The email invite said that they’d supply the main course and suggested that guests bring side dishes. I asked what I could bring, and they told me not to worry about it.
When we overheard a few people complaining that there was no apple pie, my girlfriend ran to the store to pick one up, along with a few two-liter sodas.
While she was gone, I saw a couple playing “horse” at a basketball hoop. The woman, Sandy, was smoking the guy. After they played a few games, I asked who won. Sandy said, “I did. Do you think you can beat me?”
She was busting her outside shot, and every shot I made, she matched. I had to pull out my big shots. I went onto a driveway behind a car and shot it over the backboard. She couldn’t make that. I went about 50 feet away and made one. She got her second letter.
When she missed a shot from the baseline, the ball rolled into a canyon and landed in a cactus. When I retrieved the ball, I encountered a swarm of bees. I told Sandy about the bees, and she said, “Well, better you than me. I’m allergic to bees.” I said, “I’m not allergic, but it doesn’t mean I like being stung.”
A few guys were throwing a football nearby, and I asked them if I could borrow their ball. I did a trick shot where I had the basketball in one hand and a football in the other. I put both into the basket, which ended our game. Sandy said, “You’re lucky I’ve been drinking all afternoon.”
I could smell cotton candy in the air. It reminded me of being at a fair. I found out that the hosts had rented a machine. Someone said, “It only cost $55. And $5 for the tubs of stuff to make it. Each carton makes 70 sticks.” As one woman made herself one, she said, “It’s not as good as I remembered.”
I asked Connor about the party permit. “It was easy to get. The only thing we couldn’t have was a dunk tank. We had to notify the fire department and agencies like that. We had to get signatures from the neighbors. It wasn’t permission from them, so that was weird.”
I looked around and wondered how the neighbors would get out of their driveways with tables in the street. And there was a blow-up “Moon Bounce” for kids.
I saw a guy in a blow-up sumo-wrestler costume and remembered overhearing a woman who had spotted him earlier that said to her friend, “I think some guy is wearing a big turkey outfit. It reminds me of when Paul Simon wore one on Saturday Night Live.”
The sumo wrestler had trouble negotiating the front gate, but when he finally made it out, he challenged someone to a wrestling match.
As he tried to climb into the Moon Bounce, he fell. The kids were smart and had scattered from the area. When he tried to climb in a second time, he fell over the side and landed on a bunch of balloons that popped. The crowd had a good laugh at him. On his third attempt, it was the Moon Bounce that popped. As it was deflating, one guy explained how to re-inflate it. He used a lot of technical terms, and someone said, “You sure know a lot about Moon Bounce.” The guy replied, “Well, in college we used to get them. We broke a few when we put too many people in. They cost thousands of dollars.”
Lauren, one of the organizers, was handing out shirts with “turducken” logos on them. When they insisted I wear one, I went to the bathroom to change and wash up. I saw photos of a rubber duck on the wall in various countries. Lisa said, “Oh, that’s Arty. He’s a bit pissed about us serving the turducken.”
Guests continued to show up with side dishes. One woman brought Jell-O shots in the shape of the U.S. with the blue and red states represented.
Near one of the kegs, a guy said, “I’m the senior keg master. This is the junior keg master. That’s why he has this high-powered water gun.” Someone walked up and asked, “Where’s my cup?” I informed him that there were markers to write your name on your cup. He said, “I had my name on it. I just can’t remember where I put it. My cup needs a GPS device.”
I glanced over and saw that the guys throwing the football had gotten creative. One made a catch and dove into the Moon Bounce. When he threw it back, the other guy made his catch after jumping onto the table. I wondered if anyone would think it was gross that his foot was on the table.
A few partiers were dressed as pilgrims, and there were others dressed as Indians. One Indian girl was shooting arrows at people. When she had trouble with her shot, a guy next to her said, “I can put an apple on my head. Maybe that will help.”
There was some dispute as to how Thanksgiving in July got started. This was the third year they’d done it and it was their biggest, with more than 100 people. Connor and his band the Re-rees had been together since the eighth grade. He said, “I had the idea. We couldn’t really spend Thanksgiving together because some would go back to Virginia and another went back to Portland. A few went back East. We thought we’d just do it in July, when all of us were in town.”
More cotton candy was passed around. I commented that all the leaves on the ground reminded me of Thanksgiving, but the cotton candy reminded me of a carnival. Adam told me about a carnival in North Dakota. He was ten years old, and a guy working a ride was singing “Paradise City” but changing the words to “big titties.” Adam said, “I was only ten. I don’t think this guy realized, or even cared, that kids could hear him singing these lyrics.”
A few guys at the party had ridden their bikes to San Diego from North Carolina. It took them 45 days. Patrick said, “Well, we cheated a little bit. We took a bus part of the way. We did end up riding well over 20,000 miles.”
When we sat down to eat, the band played the national anthem and everyone stood up. I asked the person next to me, “Is it disrespectful that you have the feathers in your hair as the anthem plays?” He said, “I’m from Baltimore. It’s an Orioles thing.”
As we ate, we were given continuous updates on what food was left — “There’s half a duck, a few turkey legs, and lots of chicken.”
I glanced over at the people in line for seconds. A rap song by Biggie Smalls was playing. A bald white guy was bobbing his head to the tune, and my girlfriend leaned over to me and said, “Do you think he’s really into this song or is he just happy that he’s going to be eating more turkey?”
Here's something you might be interested in.
Sumo Follies
Sumo Follies
I made the mistake of trying to go to a party in the Hillcrest area during the Gay Pride Festival. Not that there’s anything wrong with that...other than road closures and parking problems!
My girlfriend and I found our location and someone was leaving as we pulled up. When I saw a pedicab with two heavy-set women starting to roll backwards, I jumped out and helped push them up the hill.
A couple of guys whistled and hollered about how good my legs looked. The ladies in the pedicab laughed. I said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the fact that I’m being treated like a piece of meat back here.”
When we walked up to the “Thanksgiving in July” party, we couldn’t believe the length of the table. It was probably 800 feet long.
My girlfriend felt guilty that we showed up without any food. The email invite said that they’d supply the main course and suggested that guests bring side dishes. I asked what I could bring, and they told me not to worry about it.
When we overheard a few people complaining that there was no apple pie, my girlfriend ran to the store to pick one up, along with a few two-liter sodas.
While she was gone, I saw a couple playing “horse” at a basketball hoop. The woman, Sandy, was smoking the guy. After they played a few games, I asked who won. Sandy said, “I did. Do you think you can beat me?”
She was busting her outside shot, and every shot I made, she matched. I had to pull out my big shots. I went onto a driveway behind a car and shot it over the backboard. She couldn’t make that. I went about 50 feet away and made one. She got her second letter.
When she missed a shot from the baseline, the ball rolled into a canyon and landed in a cactus. When I retrieved the ball, I encountered a swarm of bees. I told Sandy about the bees, and she said, “Well, better you than me. I’m allergic to bees.” I said, “I’m not allergic, but it doesn’t mean I like being stung.”
A few guys were throwing a football nearby, and I asked them if I could borrow their ball. I did a trick shot where I had the basketball in one hand and a football in the other. I put both into the basket, which ended our game. Sandy said, “You’re lucky I’ve been drinking all afternoon.”
I could smell cotton candy in the air. It reminded me of being at a fair. I found out that the hosts had rented a machine. Someone said, “It only cost $55. And $5 for the tubs of stuff to make it. Each carton makes 70 sticks.” As one woman made herself one, she said, “It’s not as good as I remembered.”
I asked Connor about the party permit. “It was easy to get. The only thing we couldn’t have was a dunk tank. We had to notify the fire department and agencies like that. We had to get signatures from the neighbors. It wasn’t permission from them, so that was weird.”
I looked around and wondered how the neighbors would get out of their driveways with tables in the street. And there was a blow-up “Moon Bounce” for kids.
I saw a guy in a blow-up sumo-wrestler costume and remembered overhearing a woman who had spotted him earlier that said to her friend, “I think some guy is wearing a big turkey outfit. It reminds me of when Paul Simon wore one on Saturday Night Live.”
The sumo wrestler had trouble negotiating the front gate, but when he finally made it out, he challenged someone to a wrestling match.
As he tried to climb into the Moon Bounce, he fell. The kids were smart and had scattered from the area. When he tried to climb in a second time, he fell over the side and landed on a bunch of balloons that popped. The crowd had a good laugh at him. On his third attempt, it was the Moon Bounce that popped. As it was deflating, one guy explained how to re-inflate it. He used a lot of technical terms, and someone said, “You sure know a lot about Moon Bounce.” The guy replied, “Well, in college we used to get them. We broke a few when we put too many people in. They cost thousands of dollars.”
Lauren, one of the organizers, was handing out shirts with “turducken” logos on them. When they insisted I wear one, I went to the bathroom to change and wash up. I saw photos of a rubber duck on the wall in various countries. Lisa said, “Oh, that’s Arty. He’s a bit pissed about us serving the turducken.”
Guests continued to show up with side dishes. One woman brought Jell-O shots in the shape of the U.S. with the blue and red states represented.
Near one of the kegs, a guy said, “I’m the senior keg master. This is the junior keg master. That’s why he has this high-powered water gun.” Someone walked up and asked, “Where’s my cup?” I informed him that there were markers to write your name on your cup. He said, “I had my name on it. I just can’t remember where I put it. My cup needs a GPS device.”
I glanced over and saw that the guys throwing the football had gotten creative. One made a catch and dove into the Moon Bounce. When he threw it back, the other guy made his catch after jumping onto the table. I wondered if anyone would think it was gross that his foot was on the table.
A few partiers were dressed as pilgrims, and there were others dressed as Indians. One Indian girl was shooting arrows at people. When she had trouble with her shot, a guy next to her said, “I can put an apple on my head. Maybe that will help.”
There was some dispute as to how Thanksgiving in July got started. This was the third year they’d done it and it was their biggest, with more than 100 people. Connor and his band the Re-rees had been together since the eighth grade. He said, “I had the idea. We couldn’t really spend Thanksgiving together because some would go back to Virginia and another went back to Portland. A few went back East. We thought we’d just do it in July, when all of us were in town.”
More cotton candy was passed around. I commented that all the leaves on the ground reminded me of Thanksgiving, but the cotton candy reminded me of a carnival. Adam told me about a carnival in North Dakota. He was ten years old, and a guy working a ride was singing “Paradise City” but changing the words to “big titties.” Adam said, “I was only ten. I don’t think this guy realized, or even cared, that kids could hear him singing these lyrics.”
A few guys at the party had ridden their bikes to San Diego from North Carolina. It took them 45 days. Patrick said, “Well, we cheated a little bit. We took a bus part of the way. We did end up riding well over 20,000 miles.”
When we sat down to eat, the band played the national anthem and everyone stood up. I asked the person next to me, “Is it disrespectful that you have the feathers in your hair as the anthem plays?” He said, “I’m from Baltimore. It’s an Orioles thing.”
As we ate, we were given continuous updates on what food was left — “There’s half a duck, a few turkey legs, and lots of chicken.”
I glanced over at the people in line for seconds. A rap song by Biggie Smalls was playing. A bald white guy was bobbing his head to the tune, and my girlfriend leaned over to me and said, “Do you think he’s really into this song or is he just happy that he’s going to be eating more turkey?”