I have a Stupid Human Trick I used to perform at parties. Not several
tricks; just one. But in case you might think this might be bragging
(AS IF), here is a partial list of my inabilities, to counter the
- I have the vertical leap of a mud shark.
- I cannot confidently say or spell "sea anenome," and I am NOT looking that up.
- I learned to pronounce "anvil" from Bugs Bunny, and it makes Chas laugh, so I don't say it anymore.
Okay, that's enough of that. I was reminded of this story today by a good friend who can't think when the cherry jar is open, shall we say. This is for him.
When I was about 20, my childhood friend Cheryl had moved to San Francisco. She lived in a wonderful old apartment near Golden Gate Park, with hardwood floors and fantastic natural light. Cheryl decided to throw a party, so I drove down for the weekend. I helped her get the food ready for the 40 or so people she had invited, and we were having the best time ever. Neither of us drank much, so a little wine and we were rather tipsy as we prepped.
The Rolling Stones were blaring from the stereo when the doorbell rang.
(Logo stolen from this site)
"Harry! You made it!" shrieked Cheryl as she greeted the first guest. Harry was twice our age and had a perpetually sad expression. He was embarrassed to be the first one to arrive, but we put him to work and gave him a drink and soon he was happy. Happy with a sad expression.
When everything was finished, we looked around and realized that no one apart from Harry had yet arrived. No matter; it was time for mixed drinks. Of course, food would be necessary, so we got into some of the snacks -- but only some, since we would need lots of food when the hoards of villagers finally arrived.
Only they didn't arrive. Harry was it. Cheryl's boyfriend arrived, but beyond that the door didn't open again.
Time to get drunk.
I don't know whose idea the maraschino cherries were, but probably Cheryl's, because she always has enjoyed making me perform my Stupid Human Trick. Since I am a one trick pony, you'd better keep a jar of cherries on hand if you want me to perform.
I started tying cherry stems with my tongue. Cheryl was laughing, Harry was transfixed, and the boyfriend was probably too stoned to notice. I think they started timing me. I vaguely remember feeding cherries to Harry, when Cheryl took me aside to ask me what I had planned with Harry that night. Apparently I was just shy of peeling grapes for him, so what were my intentions?
"Harry?" I giggled. "Harry's adorable, but he's like a hundred or something," I said, proving my youth an inexperience.
"Harry's 40," Cheryl said.
"Yeah, 'swhat I said," I slurred. "I'm not doing anything with Harry -- are you crazy?" I scoffed.
"Well, Harry thinks you are," Cheryl warned. "He's definitely into you."
"Oh, you must be joking," I said, dumbfounded. "We're just having a good time, that's all."
"Laurie, you've been feeding him maraschino cherries and tying the stems with your tongue," Cheryl said, leaning on the "tongue" part.
We went back to the living room, where I put the lid back onto the cherry jar. Harry left soon thereafter.
(Photo stolen from these guys)