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The East in May

Here’s what happened:

I hopped on a flight heading east for El L’s weekend of geeky graduation fiestas. I caught up, amazingly, with Dandi and “S” who ran around Rock Creek Park like a wild animal and screamed for juice like a two-foot junkie. I decided to stop hating over the 2.5 years of nadas since nobody was acting weird. I think Dandi’s surprising natural nurturings calmed me down. “S” could’ve used the lesson. Sadly, Dandi imparted that Le King has taken to wandering Brooklyn on a synthetically psychedelic bender. So much for his psychotic obsession with this present company.

Namesake Gomez was particularly sympathetic to the news that Buddy’s checking into the Big House starting – er – yesterday. On the musing that Buddy exhibits an egregious lack of lesson-learning fused with a dangerous cocktail of impulse and mania, she quickly added that her St. Patty’s DUI (her first ever!) scared her liver, and her pocketbook, straight. I actually already knew that because GG spilled the beans a few months ago on account that Namesake Gomez spilled the beans about his chronic disease. They’re seriously considering adopting, by the way. I love them both.

Interesting though, how Dandi’s reaction to Buddy’s year in lockup (or maybe less considering completion in intensive drug treatment, a review of his case and perhaps placement in a halfway home) read more as “that’s fucked” whereas Namesake Gomez communicated more of a “OMG, dayum.” I would have thunk it the other way around.

Anyway, Buddy’s ongoing dramatis exemplar is why I did not stay with the ‘rents and opted for a room at JoJo’s in which every stay comes with a heaping serving of DD’s bridezilla madness. According to JoJo, DD is completely out of control planning this “event” resembling more of a display of “misguided fatherly love borne from bucks” than whatever the helll weddings are supposed to represent. Five months to go and we’ve got: 10 horse-drawn carriages, 1 scrapped wedding dress, a New Orleans jazz band, inter-wedding party fighting, pleas of “reign her in!”, dinner plates running $150+ a head, a photo booth, an ice-cream soda fountain, a cotton candy machine, crying at the food tasting and more! I got my “save the date” magnet thingie in the mail today. Hells yeah, I’m not going to miss this storm a brewin’.

Okay, so where were we? Right. We all hauled it up to Baltimore on Preakness weekend for El L’s graduation. Congratulations cum laude! Geek. Hee hee. Okay, so this graduation was BY FAR the most painful thing I’ve ever gone to. The whole ordeal was over four hours long, for criminey’s sake. Buddy busted out of the auditorium during the undergraduate H’s. He caused a minor stir but during the N’s we realized he had the right idea.

When all was said and done and El L got her diploma and the rest of us regained consciousness, Pops tried not to blow a gasket as he negotiated traffic and brought us to El L’s dorm. We threw L’s junk in the trunk and ended up transporting a dead hamster back home. Poor Barb. We thought she was just hibernating.

On Sunday we brainstormed erecting a metal fence in the front yard, forcing guests to park miles away and having The Machine load them into his trailer. He would then drive them “across the border” to El L’s graduation fiesta. Pa wanted to go down to the SPCA and pick up a dead donkey to throw into the front of the house to complete the decor. We are so un-poly-correct. We settled on Pa donning a sombrero and serape and mixing up margaritas by the dozen. (Cubby, suspiciously well-behaved, later wore the costume like a good baber.)

While it remained overcast and cloudy all week it didn’t rain and the fiesta turned out to be a big hit. No bugs too. Yay. Buddy got adequately sloshed which means that his personality was manageable and even affable. Although Jazzy sexually harassed Alfalfa, everyone bonded over a game of 80s Scruples. I must have been sleeping or stuffing my face with cake and missed it. Apparently, though, when asked what he would do if a friend offered him $1,000 to pose for some discreet nudie pictures, Pops responded that he would do it for free. Totally unsurprising.

And then the week wound down with more fajitas and friends and a dusty trip to the attic ending with Ma yelling at me for carelessly tossing a diamond bracelet into the Goodwill pile. But familiar with Ma’s garbage-rummaging tendencies, I knew she had my back.

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