~Social Media Shenanigans

It started with this status update around 20:15 Friday:  "This Throwback Pepsi is doing something bad to me. All of the sudden I feel like causing a ruckus."

Several minutes later my phone rings.  The screen says it's Beannie, so I answer not with the conventionally accepted and appropriate "hello" but with a more assy BBG like, "Beannnnnniiiiieeee", only to find that it was not in fact Beannie, but her hubby E, who had spied my update and obviously taken great pity on me.   "We're on the deck, come on over, hell bring Uncle John too". 

Sold.

Like a pizza, I was there in :30 minutes or less.  As I rounded the house heading towards the laughter emanating from the deck I realized the laughter was at my headlight.  Prompting yet another very BBG version of "hello" sounding a lot like, "yeah, I see you laughin' at my headlight, but I also see myself not fallin' the fuck down in the damn dark; so suck it peeeople".  (I've said it many times, I don't know why people speak to me at all...  I'm just thankful that they do.)

(Not this headlight.)

(This dorky and super useful headlight.)

Beannie and I have known each other since the late 90's or so, when we became co-workers.  Her hubby E is someone I've only known since they got together, however in a fun case of small worldness, I had known about him from another friend, Brad Gray, waaay back in my radio daze (well before I ever met Beannie), as they all graduated from H.S. together. 

Dear Small Worldness,
I love you.  I think you are one of the greatest things in life.  Keep up the good work.
Love,
BBG

As I sat and cracked open my super classy and patriotic PBR tallboy (thanks store for only having tallboys) I took note of the chiminea across the table from me on the deck.  It seemed to be licking flames outta places I thought it shouldn't.  In fairness, any flame larger than that generated by a BIC lighter is more fire than I'm comfortable with*.  So uncomfortable that it made me say a little internal prayer.  ...Hello God, it's me BBG, pleeeease, for the love of you do not make me have to call the fire department up in here.  (Clearly, on some level I think God is a fan of Judy Blume and the DMX joint, Up In Here.) 

(Due to poor photo timing some flames have been recreated.)

For the next several hours I enjoyed my visit, the environment and the conversation, which ranged from politics to abortion to religion among other more banal and random kooky topics.  It was quite nice to have rational discussions about topics that can be lighting rods.  Refreshing is an understatement.  And no, not all at the table held the same beliefs as each other necessarily, but without the 'I'm takin' my ball and goin' home' bullshit that too damn many of our elected officials are operating under, it was riveting and stimulating.   A kind reminder that not everyone is an asshole.

Beannie reminded me why it's good to have friends with good memories.  She regaled me with stories such as the time I got a concussion  (note to self:  Make up a better story than the fact that you got it getting in a mini van.),  I believe she called it, Beannie and Mom's Excellent ER Adventure.  Our Vegas trip and apparently a bridal shower I helped make happen. 

(Beannie's babies, well, of the 4 leg variety.)

As the night continued, I watched as E poked at the fire (while I thought to myself, ...'man, guys really like fire.  But as long as they're not wetting their bed and harming small animals, I guess that's ok...)  And then BOOM!!  In slow motion I watched a mini meteor explosion happen sending flaming balls and embers straight the hell outta the chiminea and directly onto Beannie's new rug. 

(Rug post fire-y embers and being extinguished

by beer.  "Technically" I am now a fireman.)

This was the moment I thought we were gonna have to dial 911 to invite the people who I've been trying to avoid be nice to over.  Which momentarily angered me.  Due to our collective cat like reactions we were able to eventually talk ourselves into sacrificing our beer douse it before the entire deck became fully engaged.  Thusly, much to my relief, successfully keeping the local fire station from crashing our shindig.  (Dodged that bullet, only 24 more hours:  I think I can!!)

(E attending to the carnage of fire.)

Eventually, it was 4am, so since I didn't have kids who would be up in 2 hours, I decided it was time to return to BBG HQ. 

• Ruckus:  Check.


• Near death experience: Check.


• Keeping the fire department at bay:  Wicked awesome chhhhheck.


• Rockin' it like I'm 22:  Check  (Making my status update today;  My body clock is off by 20 years. Does anyone know how to reset this thing?)


• Oh, and food porn:  Check.

(Nuts for nuts, impressive, no?)

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*Full Disclosure:  (aka: I'm sorry Mom, but obviously I learned a valuable life long lesson, so all in all, as nuthin' really unfortunate actually transpired, if you frame it right, the following is a good thing.  It's made me the safety cautious and still alive girl I am.)

I was home from school, ostensibly not feeling well enough to go to school.  Age?  Under middle school, so what?  Maybe eight or 10ish.  I recall being in the tv room, watchin' who knows what?  Captain Kangaroo?  Wearin' one of Mom's full length, light blue, short sleeved nightgown.  ...Um, uber 70's fantastic 101% polyester nightgown.  If I had to make a guess, pretending to be a princess, or model.  So I'm not exactly sure how fire came into the mix as there's not much call for a torch when you're walkin' the catwalk, or decreeing shit on commoners, but for some inexplicable pre-pubescent reason I was striking box matches (just to watch 'em burn?)

Of course, in the blink of an eye a wee mini fireball fell into the lap of Mom's BBG worn nighty, rapidly melting and morphing into a super hole-y problem for a girl "too ill to go to school".  I was in a state of shock and awe.  Honestly, I don't even remember what my kid solution to the problem was.  Disposed of the evidence with Jimmy Hoffa like efficiency?  I donno.  But I do know that I never played with fire again and that to this day, I'm on high alert for anything/situation that could cause a fire.