Basement! Yeah!

The long weekend was quite the suburban adventure.  Friday, was spent with the family in Queens and Long Island.  My parents were in town, and we had made plans to hang out that day.  Mom informs me the day before, “Oh, by the way, Geoff [my uncle] is taking us to dinner and a movie.”  So much for feeling guilty about the lack of quality time with the 'rents (since it was supposed to be just us... then again, they did only have a few days to see both their extended families)!  We saw Traitor with Don Cheadle (I never go to the movies, but this one was great), and we ate at the Red Lobster next door.  For future reference, don’t get the Lobsterita at a family dinner.  It's kinda big.

I woke up with a backache because my mom had guilt tripped me into spending the night at my grandmother’s house with them.  I had trouble falling asleep on the hard mattress that smelled (no, reeked) of old people.  I got a ride back to Manhattan, but none of the Ivy League Crew was planning to do Northern Decadence with the Long Island Gays, so I had to venture out alone to Westbury, Long Island.

The Long Island Gays have had a party every 3-day weekend that involves an afternoon bbq at the house where ASFKAB used to live with her friends (some of whom still live there, including Westberry), a late trip to Fire Island (something about liking Tea more than the beach), and a wildcard day.  I had missed "Memorial Gay" and 4^th of July, so I really wanted to check Northern Decadence out.

I arrive at the Westbury train station (for those of you who don’t know New York, it's somewhere in the suburbs of Long Island), and Bologna picks me up in her ’99 Toyota Camry.

“I’m the soccer mom!”

“No, you have the spoiler, honey.  You’re the MILF!” 

We arrive to the house (which just happens to be the same house we went to after the first Jones Beach adventure), and all the usual suspects are there.  And some new boys as well, including a cute first year resident (anesthesiologist?).  I put my Gatorade bottle of vodka in the freezer and go out to the back yard to meet and greet. 

Turns out ASFKAB’s boyfriend plays for the same rugby team as Freak-Ho!  He's invited some of his (very hot) teammates, and (besides the Aussie) they're all different from the guys we met at Asbury Park.  I’m definitely going to have to go to one of their games.

Flashback: so there was this guy… we’ll call him Poland Spring.  To be blunt, Poland Spring and I had a couple of interrupted attempts at a hook up last time I was at the Westbury Estate.  Poland Spring had told me that he and Daredevil had gone on a date, and… well, it just didn’t work out.  What Poland didn’t tell me was that he and Daredevil had an encounter in the basement at one of the previous parties at the Westbury Estate.  Poland Spring had since returned to Europe for the summer.  So back to the story: out of nowhere, I hear, “Maybe you’ll get laid in the basement again, Daredevil.”  Huh?  Then Daredevil turns to me like, “Yeah, basement!”  My first thought is, I took you for more of a top, but I’ve flipped guys before.  No, dumbass, he’s talking about Poland Spring..  And of course, the more he drank, the more often he would walk by with a shit-eating grin and say “Basement!  Yeah!”  Great.

What the hell?  Who invited Lindsay!

Looks like fetch stopped happening on it’s own.

Kings was played.  Beer Pong (or Beirut?... I learned them as 2 separate games) was played.  There was a smoke machine.  Luckily, I was at another part of the party for all of these activities.  

Oh my god.  Did Frat Boy just ask “What’s a popper?”  Wow wow wow wow.  Does that say something about him as a top?  Or as a bottom?

Then who walks through the door other than Gubment Cheese (apparently her dad “works for the government”, which she has brought up no fewer than every time I’ve met her).  I met Gubment Cheese over a year ago through ‘Trish.  Let’s just say he has a very extreme, polarizing personality.  I had no idea Gubment Cheese knew any of the Long Island Gays (then again, she does live on Long Island).

Gubment Cheese had god knows how much to drink and started hitting on the 24-year-old muscle bear from DC (let’s face it: everyone at that party wanted him), joking that she was single and pushing her boyfriend away.

Towards the end of the night, Gubment Cheese informed me that she and her boyfriend had a guest room with an actual bed.  Hmm, stay and watch the conclusion of Serial Mom or 20 minute drive to a bed?  Let’s go!  I had assumed that Gubment Cheese and her boyfriend had ridden together (especially as drunk loud and she was), but they had, in fact, come separately.  Gubment Cheese and I walk to his car.  

Top down, music up, tires screech.  Normally, I’d steer clear of any drunk driver, but ‘Trish has told me multiple times that Gubment Cheese drives better drunk than she does sober (and she’s had a lot of practice).  No time like swerving down some nameless Long Island parkway for a photo shoot (slightly scared for your life)!

“Okay, so here’s your room.  Yes, that’s glitter in the paint.  Here’s how you turn on the TV, here’s the remote for the surround sound, there’s porn in the DVD player, and we have lube if you need.  We have almost nothing to eat, but you’re welcome to whatever you see.  And don’t worry, we sleep through anything.”

Did I mention I love a good host?  Yeah.


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