We had our first neighborhood Block Party last month. I'd never been to a Block Party, but was pleasantly surprised. Good times all around, and a few stories I've been meaning to blog about. Here's the first one.
After dark, there were two tables of people sitting together. One group was all the new people and a few of the younger neighbors. The other was filled with neighborhood vets in their late 40s and 50s. The only other thing you need to know is that someone had dumped a huge bag of Double Bubble gum onto our table just before an inebriated neighborhood vet wandered over.
Her: I've been told this is the cool table. I'm here to say we can out drink all of you. What makes this the cool table?
Me: Can you see the pile of Double Bubble?
Her: [stares at me, looks at the gum, looks around the table] I can drink you under the table.
Everyone: [uncomfortable silence]
Her: Can I have a piece of this gum?
Maybe you had to be there. But I'm glad that I was.
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That has to be the worst block party story I ever heard.
You must have some wild parties up there in Nutley, then.
I had my first one last month. There were about 30 kids, dogs dressed as people, a trampoline, and a pretty aggressive congo line that I had to just as aggressively keep myself out of. My wife was pissed because they didn't put out the potato salad we shelled out $20 for. The fuckers.
We left the "What Food Will You Contribute?" line empty and just put $15 in the envelope. We also had name tags, which you might laugh at, but it was really genius. I knew maybe 4 people's names, and it could have made the awkward conversations even more so.
Was the drunk chick cute?
I think 2 to 3 decades of hard block partying has taken a toll on her.