The Money Shake

Last night, my loverboy and I went to a party south of Copenhagen. It was a so-called lawn party to celebrate the happy event of their wedding, her birthday and the birth of their lovely daughter.

But in reality, it was just another excuse to get drunk. (What can you do, the man is Polish!)

Traditional polish lawn party!

It was the first time I met some of the people from Hiro's childhood. Most of them are probably criminals, but they were also married with kids. And pretty nice too, after the first keg of beer.

Naturally there came the predicted division of people. All the boys in one end talking about retarded memories like burning a pole dancer with a lighter and of course, soccer. And all the girls at the other end talking about how retarded their husbands are and how beautiful their babies are. I didn't mind. Don't have kids yet, but it was sure fun to listen to the countless entries about kids being little rascals that mess up your life. I made sure to repeat some of the key phrases from the story quite loudly, so as to make sure Hiro was paying attention. "Oh you mean you haven't slept more than four hours for the past year?!"

Fun.

Yeah, you didn't know momma talked about you like that, did ya?

Obviously I came off as the rich girl who had never done anything wrong in her entire life. And I guess, compared to the intense stories that came across the tables yesterday, this is very true!

But the girls became extremely fond of me somehow. I am already invited to a cupcake event in the nearest future, coffee dates and countless double-dates.

And I didn't even try to come off as anything but friendly!

Needless to say, after all the food was eaten the party turned into an inferno of testosterone and giggling girls. While the men were busy arm-wrestling across burning candles, the girls were busy dancing around to Adam Lambert in skirts that kept sneaking up the thighs and stomping the stripper-heels.

And every time the host re-entered the huge tent in the garden, he threw his arms up in the air and went; "What the hell are all you people doing in my backyard?!" (He's polish, what can you do?)

Of course, there had to be drama too. Eri was attending, obviously.

One of the girls decided she had had too much to drink and suddenly figured that her whole life was a waste, so the hostess and I spent an hour knocking and pleading the bathroom door to open for her to come out (and the testosterone men to have a bathroom to go to so they won't kill the garden with their manliness).

But it wasn't just the girls. A boy also had too much to drink and had a mental break-down. He and the host got into a fight. Not the verbal kind.

Suddenly the roles were switched and the women were busy arguing who had the biggest muscles of all, and the men were running after the depressive boy in an attempt to cheer him up.

Meanwhile, I was making out with the loverboy in the corner somewhere. We sorta missed out on all that, but it was great to hear the story from 24 different drunk angles afterwards. Some dude at some point, decided that he better drop off a note or two on our love-making. So he brought in a bottle of vodka (the polish kind) and explained countless perverted reasons you should not have sex in a playpen.

Hey sexy, wanna get it on?

At some point, people were so incredibly drunk (except for me) that we decided to hit the road and return home. We decided to give the depressive drunk a ride home because no one wanted a lawn party to end in suicide or possible host-murder.

So my drunk buddhist leader boyfriend decided he should cheer up the boy in the backseat of the car with some buddhist sutras. As I hit the highway, I had two very drunk boys chanting in the back of my car and one was laughing while doing it, the other crying.

I was very happy to drop off the maniac, who decided that I should be compensated for the loss of my sanity and driving him home, so he did the money shake.

At first I thought he was a goofball and gave me his number. Cause it felt like a folded piece of paper when he was shaking my hand. And when we got home, I realized he'd given me an insane amount of money.

Can't figure out if I should keep it and play on his drunkness, or simply stop by and return it to him because he was pretty upset and pretty wasted.

Damn you expensive VIP cab!

Ah well. If I do stop by, he will probably be busy snoring off his hangovers and I will probably break down his pride.

I'll just pretend yesterday was a bad dream and I took a cab home.

No wait, I was the cab.