It’s All About the Party (Part II)

The title sums it up; this story is about the party and not the fight. The fight is still being hashed out by the brilliant minds on Face Book and the incompetent NEWS Media. So if we want to talk about the fight I’ll log into Face Book in approximately 10 minutes; meet me there!

So it’s now oh dark thirty on Sunday Morning, the Chief cook and bottle washers are at the door panting to get to work, after coffee and yack-yacking they’ll start. I’ve noted over the years that all projects in the Philippines start the very same way; it’s only the beverage that changes.

The Mindanao Bob Deluxe Bar-B-Que Grill was prepared the night before and mounds of charcoal had been splashed down with lighter fluid (Read Kerosene) and fired up with a single match that next morning. Over the years without planning on it as a hobby I’ve acquired a large collection of coolers, and today they were all full of every manner of foods imaginable. I had to send a runner to the ice plant to keep the foods cold overnight.

So here I was at my computer at 0500 with the smell of baby back ribs wafting through my window, can anyone guess what I had for breakfast? And later pork chops chicken and could it be a party without fish.

There was a time when I was concerned with deadlines, now I just prefer to hear them whooshing by. But all my buddies were coming at noon, and on the Dream Satellite come a crawler across the screen saying the fight would start at 11am my time. I sent a text informing them of this and my friends started rolling in between1100 to 1200, as they refuse deadlines too. We ate and had a cocktail or two and then waited another hour or so for the fight to start. I should know not to believe anything the TV tells you, they’ve never been right yet.

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So now the fight has concluded without the expected results, I quickly changed over the stereo/flat screen to karaoke mode, hooked up the magic
Microphone with its ten thousand songs handed off the Microphone, and thought to myself; “That’ll keep ‘em busy” And the fight was forgotten and let the singing begin.

Some of my family and visitors moved to my Man-Cave in the back where there is another karaoke setup, albeit with only 5000 songs. But there were still copious amounts of food and another 9 bottles of Emparaflu for their dining and dancing pleasure.

It was getting late in the day and my friends were going to shove off and head to their domiciles. I bid them all a slurred farewell, and went out to watch them drive away. (Their wives were actually the ones doing the driving.) The hardheaded side of me will try to make sure no one drives while “over served” from one of my parties. I also keep a few local drivers on speed dial for the super hardheads.

I cast a gaze around the house and saw the two groups singing, the ladies in the kitchen talking and laughing. The house was somehow cleaned up and everything back in its proper place. I was the only thing out of place, for my upstairs room and a battle nap were calling to me, somewhat like I was hearing a sirens song. So I gave into my instincts and disappeared to my fortress of solitude. I was joined by my dog “Coolett” whose sworn duty it has always been, to watch over me anytime I lay down to sleep.

As my head hit the pillow I pondered over the day that had just transpired, all the people I had seen, and the wonderful party Mayang had pulled off for the thousandth time. And as my eyes closed and my brain started shutting down, one last thought raced through my head; “Who won the fight?”