Return to the Boo!-bie Mansion

Last night was an epic night of tears, jeers, and more than a few beers. That's right, it was the first Esmonde writing weekend. We tried on some nice bridesmaid dresses, polished off a Heineken mini keg, and rocked out to Epic.

Writing for me has gotten back on track, I had some week two blues (which will likely continue) but sitting on 26,000 words, it feels pretty good. I just wish that my book wasn't so damn depressing right now. Olga has decided that she wants to apply to medical school so that she can go into sports medicine, and when she told Fernando he was less than excited. Olga commented:

I know that Fernando wants more than anything for me to be happy, but it will always have to be on his terms, and not interfere with his own happiness. He wants me to support him, which of course I am happy to do, but not at the expense of myself.

While I was writing yesterday Green Eyes by Coldplay came on, which many of you will remember was the song that described Fernando's feelings for Olga, and also why I decided that she should have green eyes. It made me sad to see how far they've come from there, and in a lot of ways, they're completely crumbling.

Speaking of Fernando, he just scored a goal five minutes into the first Confederations Cup match against New Zealand, and the commentator said that he is a "cool customer." Couldn't agree more. It was as smooth and rich as Swiss chocolate. Oh, and as I've been writing this, he scored two more goals. Hat trick Fernando!

Anyway, here's the return scene to the Boo!-bie Mansion:

I had vowed never to never return to the Boo!-bie Mansion. It should however be noted that while this implies that I would someday have some desire to return, this is exceedingly incorrect. I didn’t think that it was a necessary vow at the time, more like an insurance policy and a re-affirmation that I would never re-enter an establishment that welcomed patrons with a rather busty ghost. Little did I know that on the first Thursday of every month, the Boo!-bie Mansion is an all-male review for those special lades out there who enjoy it when their drinks are mixed with a certain appendage and dollar bills are picked up with butt cheeks. Apparently the WAGs were in the mood to get wild, and I would be strapped in along for the ride.
But here I am, once again walking through the notably squeaky door at the corner of Wood and Black Cock Lane. No, I didn’t choose to come here. Rather, I was dragged. Against my will. It was Steven Garrison’s wife Victoria von Beckheinzman’s twenty-fifth birthday, and because her husband was busy at practice that night, she wanted “the girls” to come out for a night of debauchery and penis waving-about. I’m not sure why I agreed. Maybe it was because I didn’t really think that I had any way out of it. God knows I didn’t. No matter the reason, I was in the Boo!-bie Mansion, and when in such situations, one must drink heavily to combat the creepy atmosphere.
The men on stage looked very odd indeed; it was a regular monster mash. One was wearing a sheet with a strategically placed diamond cut out. Another man was so hairy that his only costume option was probably the werewolf and wearing a fur posing pouch. Or maybe not… The vampire had edible (or so I hear) blood smeared all over his body with a small bat hanging from his “love staff.” Victoria’s words, not mine. A mummy was dancing seductively while slowly unwrapping his bandages. A man-o-lantern had a face painted on his stomach, and nothing else. Well, unless you count the “cheeky” face painted on his posterior. I wonder if Victoria could confirm if this was edible. I hope not. One man, who I assumed to be an ode to “Thing” from the Adams Family, was covered in head to toe with black paint, save for his “manhood.” Finally, there was a Frankenstein stripper, who was oddly doing a robotic shimmy accompanied by the Charleston. To say that I was uncomfortable would be insufficient. It was an extremely sexy nightmare.
While I tried not to focus on the ghoulish chaps on-stage, I couldn’t help but notice one of the boys who was tanned to an orange crisp, had a ridiculously good body, and was wearing tiny white shorts (but not for long) and the mask of the serial killer from Scream. He was dancing in a come-hither and, dare I say, bewitching manner to the tune of ‘Hips Don’t Lie.’ His sure didn’t.
We ordered a large cauldron full of the “Boo!-bie Brew,” which was ladled out using a penis-shaped spoon. Don’t ask me how a spoon can be penis-shaped. Just trust me. While we didn’t imbibe the Boo!-bie Brew with fallopian tubes, we drank it so fast you would think that we did. We also ordered cauldrons of “Bloody Murder” and “Axe on the Beach.” To conclude, things soon got messy.
Soon there was dancing on tables with the werewolf and the vampire, and the removal of the werewolf’s furry posing pouch, which was soon placed on Victoria’s finger, and a chorus of point dancing ensued. While I attempted not to participate, I was soon pulled on top of the table by Sam to dance to the Harry Potter theme song. It was difficult to get my groove on to this ditty, so I soon descended back down to my spider-shaped bar stool.
Robin van Egeraat’s wife Mary Kate, who can often be distinguished by her hipster garb (but I call them shitsters), threw her shoe at the man-o-lantern. Perhaps this action was inspired by his repeated insistence that she lick the edible paint off of his buttocks. Perhaps not.
Hilarity, confusion, and pandemonium soon resulted when a drunk and disorderly Cindee Saracen (Hank Lampard’s current squeeze) was dancing with the Scream murderer so vigourously that his mask was removed accidentally, revealing his true identity: Antonio Mourinho. No one was sure exactly why he had this moonlighting gig; sadly, we would never know. He shouted, “I’m Antonio’s brother… Tonay…” before shuffling off quickly in shame. Oddly enough, this did little to damper the spirits of the revellers. However, this strange occurrence would take centre stage in my dreams for years to come.

Oh, and because I didn't have the internet yesterday, I didn't include the craft of the day. I'll stick the two in later when I write.