Art’s Birthday Dinner

Yeah man, we went over to Miss Lisa’s son and girlfriend’s house tonight for his birthday dinner. Now I had been told it was gonna be fried chicken, mashed potatoes and cream gravy. Maybe it was to lure me over, I don’t know – I ain’t known for being sociable. I’ve got friends that I’ve known for 20 years and I ain’t never step foot in their house yet – I ain’t talking about just work friends either. And the motherfuckers better not step foot in mine either.
I’m getting off track here.

Anyways, it wasn’t fried chicken it was grilled and his sweetie was doing the cooking. It wasn’t mashed potatoes, it was twice-baked potatoes. No fucking gravy either, they had the nerve to try and serve me a salad.
Not only that but the chicken was still cooking when we got there. That could only mean one thing – I might have to talk to somebody while I was there. Apparently I wasn’t going to just swoop in there, eat, take a shit and leave.
Don’t get me wrong, I get along with Art. He’s struggling but he’s trying (we help him out when we can) plus he ain’t living under my roof no more. And I get along just fine with his girlfriend seeing as she’s as anti-social as me. And I also get along with Miss Lisa most of the time. Only problem is, I don’t get along with more than 2 people at a time no matter who the fuck they are. Social situations are not my forte. Put me together with Buddha, Ghandi, and Confucius and in 45 minutes I’ll denounce them as pussies to their face and get my ass thrown out of that party.
But I was determined to be on my best behavior. I was going to be nice. After all, they were feeding me.

Now I wouldn’t say that they lived in the worst neighborhood in town but it runs a close second. So here we are white trashing away amongst a bunch of Section 8 Mexicans, Okies, and Blacks, grilling on one of them little kettle grills in the driveway, visiting and having a good time.
I’m nervous, real nervous. I been shot at in that neighborhood before it went bad got worse. So I’m sitting with my back to the house, between the road and Miss Lisa. I’m wearing a nice button down shirt with a 45 strapped under it, and I’m checking shit out, watching people, watching cars ready to bust me some motherfuckin’ caps, yo. But everything’s cool, nobody’s paying us any mind, just sitting in their driveways doing the same thing.

But something catches my attention to the right. There on the curb on a pile of dead leaves some weeds or something, very bright green and wilting fast. Art follows my glances and says ” You know what that is right there on them dead leaves?”
It hits me. “Uh-huh”
“Somebody’s male marijuana plants” Art confirms.
“That’s some White Trash shit right there, man.”

I really wanted to get a close up picture for y’all and I had a camera in the jap car, but that’s just not the kind of neighborhood where you a) start taking pictures and b) take pictures of what might be construed as future evidence, so I had to sit in the jap car and get one from there.


After I took this I took a picture of the 3 of them as a group and then one of each of them individually then threw the camera back in the car, my picture taking duties fulfilled. Miss Lisa’s always hollering at me for not taking pictures at family functions. She can’t bitch at me tonight, she got four of them this time.

So yeah, Art’s girlfriend finished cooking and we all retired to the house and ate and let me tell you what, it was fucking delicious. Everything but the salad anyways – I didn’t eat none of that shit. I ate til I was fucking stuffed. I know I ate 2 breasts and a thigh and 3-4 legs, 4 of them double baked taters and I have no idea how many fucking hot links I scarfed. I was one my game tonight. Fuck, I was wolfing down hot links while I was still standing at the serving counter.
Fuck it, if they expected me to grace them with my presence they damned sure better expect I ain’t leaving hungry. I’m still burpin’ and fartin’.

The TV was on so I watched the MSM news for the first time in 10 years or more. That was interesting. I expect I’ll go another 10 years or so before I let that happen again.
But other than that I had a pretty good time.

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4 Responses to Art’s Birthday Dinner

  1. Rick says:

    Don’t eat salad; salad is what your food eats…

  2. anonymous says:

    One way I can eat salad is with crackers or croutons. And eeevery once, in a while, I feel a need for a big salad but its gotta have dressing or screw it. Freakin’ meat rules!

    Sounds like a good time was had – keeping connections with your tribe is good.

  3. Heh! Definitely one of the “Get off my damn lawn!” kind of guys.

  4. Ian Restil says:

    Sounds like you had a good time, and are well on your way to becoming quite the social butterfly.

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