Birthday Party Cookout + Cocktails -- July 18th!

Long Story Short: Birthday cookout 2:00pm Montrose Beach (coördinates) followed by 8:00 cocktail party at Matt and Araidia's house (coördinates). Please to bring a thing, according to our simple list. (Note: Please let me know if that link doesn't work for you, as it is also a handy way to RSVP).

Matthew Bourque (né Bourque) and I will be celebrating our birthdays in a bewildering variety of exotic locales* next weekend, and we want you to join us! Picture yourself surrounded by the sand of Montrose Beach, as the gentle spray of the 2:00pm ocean is drowned out by the melodious song of the banjo, and the harmonious** enthusiasm of thirty excitable† people all singing sea shanties. Paradise, you ask? Why, no, friend, it's merely the first half of our party! But will there also be cookout and hotdogs without meat getting het over a fire? WHY YES THERE WILL!(Meat hot dogs will also, no doubt, be present).

As the evening wears on and the pleasure-drenched sun sinks slowly into the sunset, the party gleefully disbands. But this is no farewell--merely an amiable auf Wiedersehen as we part for dinner and a change of costume--for the second half of the party is the one about which I am even more excited!

Have you always longed to sip a Sidecar or cavort carefully with Caipifrutas? Mayhap a Manhattan or a Martini†† is more your métier! Dude, we will also have North Shore's Sirene Absinthe Verte on hand, so if you've ever thought, "Gosh, Sazeracing sounds like fun" then this is your chance! Green Fairies all around!

We'll meet up at Matt and Araidia's around 8:00, and there will be a long table with instructions and ingredients for a number of fine cocktails. None of this "Hilarious Double Entendre On the Beach" business, I mean the kind of cocktails that your ancestors enjoyed back in the 1830s! There will also be finger food, although perhaps not quite as ancient of pedigree.

Matt's original thought was that he would pay for all the liquor and the beer and the cookout supplies from his trust fund. However, I pointed out to him that such a rash course of action would cause irreparable harm, as many of our friends would go into Honor Debt, and be forced to renounce their surnames out of shame for having allowed the Guest of Honor to pay out of pocket for his own party. 

He next proposed, grudgingly, that we set up an elaborate system of randomization in which a confluence of the stars and the position of the sun determined which item you should bring to the table according to a long list, here appended. I agreed, provided that we attach an additional caveat: anyone who can't afford to bring things to our party must not do so. At which point the Lovely Cat wondered why we tempted Cruel Fate with a Complicated Confluence Algorithm instead of merely allowing folks to sign up, as they wished, via Google Docs. Which we have done.

So, was this invitation long and confusing enough for you? I dare you to read it again after the Caipifrutas!

Seriously, being thirty-two has been an absolute delight, and I really hope to celebrate it with you.


*Every locale is exotic from somewhere, and for easily-bewildered folks two is a bewildering number indeed!
**i.e., drunk.
† ibid.
†† In Matt's house, Martini means gin+vermouth. You want a newfangled "vodka martini", you should specify it. You want some highball with vodka and chocolate sauce? Fine, but it's no martini.
I'm in! I'm in!

Woot, bbq and booze? Nothing's keeping me away *does a jig* Now to find what my ancestors would have been sipping in the 1830's!
awwwwww. Benjamin. I miss you. I dont accident my way onto your blog very frequently... but I'm glad i did this tyme.

But anyways, I wish you a happy birthday, send my sincerest apologies that I shall be absent... but you might have already surmised that. In fact, I'd be rather surprised if you'd ever considered my presence a possibility... or that you had ever even considered my presence at such a party at all.
Were I to come, I would bring bruscetta and cake, and cheese. And fancy pants soda.
Sadly, I will not be able to attend.
Move to Boston, I insist!