Velociworld

ANOTHER EPISODE IN GRACIOUS LIVING

I'm driving up to Savannah tomorrow for my brother-in-law's birthday party. Well, Bloomingdale, to be precise. If past is indicator it should be a momentous event. 50 or 60 people will congregate in the back yard, tents will be pitched, hog will be smoked, likker will be drunked. The guitars will come out at some point, and a Grateful Dead hootenany will ensue.

My brother-in-law wasn't raised a neckbone. He decided to become one in his early twenties. Which is fine. I always have a good time. Unfortunately, I always have too good of a time. The morning after, everyone who stayed over (I always have the master bedroom, because I'm Me) will pack the den, and drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and watch the videotape of Velocisot making an ass of himself.

In my defense I will say there is some level of amusement in my spastic antics. And I generally get tits shown to me (you have to know who to ask. I do).

But I think I shall take the low-key approach this year. No setting things afire. No stripping of my shirt. No biting off a chunk of meat from the pig while it is still a-spit. I still hope to see some tits though.