The great thing about a house party is you never know what to expect. Starting with the host can be a great litmus test, but that is not always a telltale sign of the vibe.
I attended a backyard get down this past weekend that I shall never forget as long as I live.
I was rolling with my girl Dan Belle (of course), who, by the way, now goes by "Big Ticket" (I'll get into that later). We were accompanied a friend, whom we will call Flight Wings, for the purpose of this story. I should note that the night began with a crew of five, but quickly dwindled down to three after some parental responsibilities took precedence for one and some CRAAAZZZY, Starsky and Hutch tire screeching, kidnapping, relationship drama took place for another (I swear I can't make this shht up).
Moving on, my com padres and I headed off on a small journey about an hour outside of LA. We arrived at the lovely home of one of Dan Belle's colleagues and that's when the madness began. Barring the absolutely INSANE comments made to Flight Wings about his personal involvement with Dan Belle by some folks he'd just met, the evening proved to be quite entertaining; a smorgasbord of blog fodder under the dark starry skies.
When we arrived, the hostess was on the mike singing along with MJB's "Just Fine". She really has a decent voice, so it was funny to see, but in a good way. We said our hello's and bum rushed the bartender, and basically sat right there for the rest of the night. There was food, so we smashed the buffet, then settled in for some people watching. Dan Belle was socializing with her folks, so that left Flight Wings and I to take in the fun that was happening on the dance floor.
While there was plenty of rumpshaking, droppin' it like its hot, and line dancing, the apple of my GTFOH eye, was a guy I dubbed, Sexy Potbelly. This cat was INCREDIBLE. Think, a broke down T. Howard, or Hustle and Flow's D Jay. Homie danced all night, and he had chicks lined up to dance with him, literally waiting for him to bend them over and simulate backshots to the beat of the music. He danced to every song, regardless of genre, like he was a male exotic dancer, with the hokey snake moves and all. I say this because, it wasn't appealing, at least not to me. He wore gray sweatpants and and a dingy wifebeater, and although he wasn't a big dude, he had a little potbelly and it was all too stank and funny.
I was tempted to go over and dance with him for the private amusement of myself, Dan Belle and Flight Wings, but I was afraid of what he might smell like, 'cuz like I said, he was dancing all night, and consistently sweaty, although that didn't seem to matter to the broads who STILL couldn't get enough. Well, Sexy Potbelly's shining moment came when he left the dance floor and headed to the buffet. This Squirrel opened two chafing dishes and went right in with his bare, nasty, sweaty, booty and crotch grabbing hands, and picked out a rib and a hot link and devoured them as if it were the last supper!!!!!! Flight Wings and I sat there in stunned silence for a spilt second before we erupted in laughter. It happened so fast, but it felt like slow motion. That's why I don't like to get down at a buffet, and had we seen that when we arrived, we would have never indulged. At the time, Dan Belle had just gotten a plate of veggies, so we opted not to tell her about the food dive until we left. To top it all off, Sexy Potbelly took his soft shoes right back to the dance floor, greasy bar-b-que hands and all and resumed his stripper boogie with a big girl.
Our next source of laughter came from a Huxtable sweater-wearing, toothless semi-old timer who came to the bar and asked for Gin and Juice......."Did he just say Gin and Juice"? (Crickets).... The answer to that question was a resounding yes, and the Squirrel was dead serious. He successfully put the icing on the cake with that request.
It was time to go.
So we left.
But I have a word of advice to you all. If you ever meet a friends love interest for the first time, DON'T take it upon yourself to divulge info about your friend and make comments that might be embarrassing or hurtful to the friend or their date. A woman, who by the way, told us that her people call her Aunt Juicy (seriously), told Flight Wings that she hoped he had some loot because Dan Belle was a Big Ticket. It was classless and egregious and she should have known better; the Itch gave GAW everywhere a bad name. I was through then, and I'm through now.