Update: Give it up for my 200th post! I seem to always miss these milestones until the day after.
For my second morning in Cherry Grove, I slept in on Saturday morning, which means I woke up every hour from about 8 til I finally got up at 11. Everyone else shoved off for the beach pretty early in the afternoon, but SoHo Crush, Sharonne, and I stayed behind at the house for a bit, passing by the beach with the last of the vodka on the way to buy some more in the Pines. It just so happened that I’d been invited to a pool party (with Stoli sponsorship!) at one of the Cougar's house in the Pines that afternoon (Cougar is a Long Island Gay who, if she were a Real Girl, I could see being a cougar in about 20 years, class of '04). Perf!
We arrived to find all the Long Island Gays with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. It was extra nice out, so I didn’t even bother wearing a shirt out of the house. Just my knock-off Uggs, a cock ring (used as a scrunchie), and a pair of shorts. Eventually (3 minutes) I stripped off the shorts to reveal the pink speedo.
On 3 distinct occasions, someone said, pointing to my boots: “Aren’t you hot?”
Me: “Well, I certainly think so, but that’s so nice of you to say!”
Within 10 minutes of my arrival, Cougar’s older sister requested that I do the “Single Ladies” dance.
The party got pretty packed (I’d say close to 200 people), and the Long Island Gays, with their Real Housewives of New Jersey quotations, their chicken fighting in the pool, and ASFKAB’s Bear Couture shoots on the deck, were constantly the center of attention. After an hour or so, SoHo Crush and Sharonne left to get booze and bring it back to FichGro.
At one point, I started talking to a straight couple who seemed to be having the best time. Apparently, their mid-20s friend had just found out a matter of hours before that his wife as cheating. Their mission: to get him as wasted as possible. And the cuckolded friend was kinda cute, too.
On the other side of the party, a guy stopped me as I was walking. “Excuse me!” A British accent will always turn my head. “Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I can’t get over the size of your penis!”
. o O (Oh my god, she’s British and drunk! Must… resist… easy… target…)
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I mean, it is kind of cold in here.”
It was one of those conversations where when you walk away, you know they’re talking about you. And watching you walk away. And you suspect that anyone within earshot is probably doing the same. Luckily, NYC open bars have taught me how to slide through crowded spaces relatively efficienctly.
I jumped in line for the bathroom behind 4 people. Not an emergency, but preventative maintenance is key. About 30 seconds after the guy before me went in, the all too familiar square rhythm of the kick and clap intro with the electronic swirl blasted through the party, followed by the dreaded line, “All the single ladies.”
Props to Cougar for this footage of my topish behavior.
. o O (Damnit, where are my girls!)
After several pats on the back (and a couple on the butt), I finally got to the bathroom.
Eventually, the party died down, and most of the guests left. Our drunk hostess beckoned me upstairs, asking me if I had any musical suggestions while DJ Sidewalk (they hired the DJ we usually dance to at Splash on Thursdays downstairs!!) packed up his things.
In addition to the after party's audio entertainment there was some visual stimulation. As in 2 guys hooking up in the bathroom who neglected to close the blinds all the way. “He’s grabbing his hips and pulling them towards his face!” some girl squealed.
I had run into Loosefur earlier at the party, and he had invited me to a smaller get together that his house was hosting (2 Pines house party invites in 1 afternoon?! This is major for us!). His text said 5:30-7:30. With the aforementioned show (it was more fun watching the reactions of the nosey people trying to spy than the actual live porn), I’d lost track of time, but I showed up at Loosefur’s place a bit after 7:15.
“Hey, is Loosefur here?”
“No, he went to Tea,” responded a cheerfully queeny muscle daddy. “But would you like a margarita?”
I stayed and socialized a bit with the muscle queen and the other housemates for a bit before they sent me on my way with a to-go drink. That’s when I realized it was dusk. And I had to tromp through the Meat Rack. With no shirt.
I got back to the Grove without incident and noticed the burnt, unhusked corn on the table. Apparently, the Token Lesbian had to step away from the grill for a minute, so SoHo Crush took over. Rather than leaving the corn on the top rack of the grill, he put it on the rack right above the fire. Of course, they caught on fire. I’m not sure how, but they were able to put it out pretty quickly. Good thing, too, because the fire extinguisher was buried behind a wall of pots and pans in the cabinet. BTW, the corn was still good.
We finished chowing down and started pregaming before heading out to a bar in Cherry Grove. SoHo Crush bought a round of drinks and went home. The bartender insisted that we take a fruity shot with him. After that, he lined up glasses for another but, I was the only fool who was up for it. Smart decision on everyone else's part because it was my least favorite liquor: Jäger.
We ended up at the Ice Palace, where we had obviously missed the drag performance. The two drag queens were dancing wildly on the bar, so it took me a second to realize that one of them was Logan Hardcore, who hosts Karaoke at Pieces. As soon as she came off the bar, she came over and greeted me in her typical aggressive-drag-queen fashion.
While the rest of the night was mostly drinking, lip synching, and hair tossing, the highlight may have been when a tragic girl somehow joined our group outside the dance floor. For those of you who have a hard time telling the difference between Jersey and Long Island stereotypes, she’s the reason why. At one point , she uttered the words, “my husband”, and I was like, . o O (You’re married! Some rich donor spent $100K+ on my education, I spent all those hours in the gym, I worked SO hard in middle school to get rid of my accent, and you’re married?!) Her husband was actually pretty cute (she was no troll either), and according to Lady Grr Grr's story, Bear, who was very drunk, "told the husband he wanted to bang him."
Eventually, the couple wandered off. Long after the queens shed their wigs and (not very much of) their makeup, we decided it was time to go. It happened to be raining, and I happened to still be wearing knock-off uggs (with almost no sole… they’re more like slippers). I was not a fan. Then the bouncer gave me shit about leaving with my drink. It was water! Eventually, I said something clever, and he laughed and said, “Go ahead, man.” Our group tromped down the wet boardwalk, my footwear tucked under my shirt.
Did I mention that SoHo Crush had long since fallen asleep? Yeah.
Click here to check out my night of random celebrity run-ins.
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