A few weekends ago I spent five hours around a hobo fire in a friend’s backyard. A hobo fire, in case you’re unfamiliar with this assuredly un-PC term, is a fire in a great big barrel. It looks like this, when it’s filled with bits of Christmas tree:
It is a ridiculous thing, a hobo fire, especially when it’s in a friend’s backyard and especially when said friend’s house is filled with people you don’t know, causing you to flee the house and drink around a hobo fire in the backyard, with the friend. It’s not like his house was invaded, but it was filled with his (amazing) girlfriend’s friends for her 30th birthday, none of whom we knew and so we, the friend and I and a handful of our other friends, created our own little anti-social party around the hobo fire, although I suppose if there were four or five of around the hobo fire, we can’t really be called anti-social, but also none of us could stand to be smushed into the house with 20 or 30 or 40 people we didn’t know and didn’t feel like small-talk chatting with, because sometimes we’re assholes like that and really, none of us do too well in large crowds of strangers. Generally we prefer drinking and cursing and making fun of each other, which maybe isn’t the best way to make new friends, but is the best way to stay friends with old friends.
It used to be that I spent every weekend and a handful of evenings during the work week with these people. It was easy when we all lived in the same apartment, but things are different now. None of us live there anymore and most of us are homeowners, or on our way to being homeowners, so we don’t see as much or enough of each other these days, but it was nice to sit around a hobo fire and talk about the Before Times, to marvel at how things have ended up for all of us and to look around the fire and to realize that we’re all still just as absolutely ridiculous as we were when we met five years ago.
As we’ve been over countless times, Andrew is in Alabama learning how to fly helicopters and his “stick buddy,” who is basically his flying partner, bought his girlfriend a mini pig and Andrew got to meet this mini pig, which is total and complete bullshit and absolutely not okay, mostly because I want to meet a damn mini pig and not only did Andrew get to meet this little mini pig, but it, Coco, also bit him, which is hilarious and also amazing. Coco continued to terrorize him, so he says, and I like to think that Coco was mostly just pissed that Andrew didn’t bring me over to hang out, mini pig style, whatever that means.
And for the record, that’s not actually the pig biting Andrew, it’s the pig eating something surely delicious that’s probably not bacon.
I talk about the cats a lot, mostly because they do the dumbest shit and mostly because I have a hoard of stray ones*, but I don’t talk about the dogs too much anymore, but we have this dog, Sadie, who was the first critter we added to our family and she is a lunatic, in so many ways.
*Raccoon Cat, who is actually a raccoon, lives in the tree in our neighbor’s backyard that’s right next to our back porch and two nights ago he was in the tree, CHIRPING, which was basically the best and most adorable thing I had ever heard in my life and also the most delicious sounding thing the dogs had heard since I’d made dinner that night. Raccoon chirps are, for the record, god damn adorable.
This is Sadie, just being Sadie:
She sleeps on the bed, terrorizes the cats on occasion, hates feet and getting her paws wet in the rain, is an avid sock collector and a professional toy-destuffer. She’s amazing, really, in the most ridiculous ways.
Also, thanks to everyone for your charity suggestions on my last post! I haven’t picked one for January just yet, but am so thankful to have a list of awesome friend-tested charities to refer to and donate to throughout the year.